


Side of the Road

by JuliaTheRainbowFacedSheep



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boston, Chicago, Dallas - Freeform, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, New Orleans, New York City, Orlando - Freeform, Outer Banks, Road Trips, San Francisco, Seattle, Slow Burn, Supernatural - Freeform, but it is definitely a destiel fic, cas comes in chapter 5, destiel will take a while, the beach, very slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaTheRainbowFacedSheep/pseuds/JuliaTheRainbowFacedSheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam graduated high school, he had plans to road trip across the US by himself and visit all of the big cities. That plan goes awry when he gets a call from Dean, who he hasn’t seen or spoken to in three years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: This chapter has been revised

Dean didn’t know when he started running back and forth in the pouring rain by the side of the road. It was a childish cheesy movie move Sam had started. All he knew was that the cool rain made his pounding heart settle a little bit.  
He stopped next to the car, looking out across the deserted highway. It was about midnight. There had been no sunrise that morning, just rain. It was steady, constant rain that came down in sheets and soaked him the minute he stepped outside. Sam ran back to Dean at the car. They were both soaked from head to foot.  
They had been on the highway all day, the storm seeming to follow them endlessly. But Sam had screwed up and they’d run out of gas before they could find a motel for the night.  
When he got out of the car, Dean held their hand out to catch the rain, and turned his head up as if to soak it all in. Sam squinted over the top of the car, and took off down the side of the road with his arms stretched wide. Dean had followed soon after.  
They stopped, breathless, facing the highway looking over the low roof of the impala. The smallest hint of light was breaking through the dark rain clouds. It was a sign of a sunrise and a break from the rain.  
“I haven’t felt this good in a long, long time.” Dean said, relieved.  
Sam tilted his head to the side, pondering if this was a good time to ask Dean about why he’d called in the first place.  
“I will never make you tell me something you don’t want to, but what happened between you and Crowley? Why did he kick you out? And why was I the first person you called?” Sam had to shout over the pouring rain. It had been three years since they had last talked, and it had ended with Dean telling Sam ‘if you say anything more, I’m leaving and I’m not coming back’.  
There was nothing more than concern in his voice, and Dean knew that. But finding the right words to describe why he went back over and over again to someone he knew treated him like shit was like trying to rewire a time bomb. One wrong move and the whole thing would explode. That’s what had happened the last time Sam had asked these questions three years ago. They had rewired it and made a mistake, and everything had exploded with it.  
“People react certain ways to certain situations. Some people, when something happens, you suddenly become uninteresting to them and they break off contact. Crowley…I never knew what it was that suddenly made me uninteresting to him. I can never work out what it is I do that makes me become disposable to him. And he’d dispose of me, but then he’d come back sometimes, and it was always sporadic. But when he was there, he cared (or at least seemed to care) so strongly that nothing compared. And it felt like a drug that I was totally dependent on. And he knew that. So he abused that. But I needed it nevertheless.”  
Sam nodded. Rain continued to pour. But the light was growing stronger, and the rain clouds were moving away and bringing in a sunrise.  
Without warning Sam started screaming beside Dean. He was shouting so that his breath came out in clouds even in the middle of July. He stood there, crying out to an empty road with Dean beside him.


	2. The Beginning of the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: This chapter has been revised

Sam had been saving his money for this trip his entire life. Early in his life he realized that even though they traveled all around the country, they never saw the cities. John, his father, had never allowed them to set foot in the downtown of any city in Sam’s entire life. So Sam, at the age of 8, started keeping a jar of all of the change he found on the street. He figured that by the time he was taught how to drive he could have enough to visit at least one city. It was his little secret. He didn’t even tell Dean, his best friend and older brother.  
When Sam was old enough he started getting actual jobs. His dad never heard about this, he was too busy with his own crappy jobs to be able to keep track of Sam or Dean. Most of the time he’d drop them off at a motel and leave for a job in a completely different state, just to keep Sam and Dean out of the way. Dean assumed Sam’s jobs were just ways to keep himself occupied, because if they weren’t at school they were sitting in a motel room.  
When Sam was 15, he woke up to find Dean gone. John had been gone for two months and would probably not be back for another one. They were living out of a motel in the middle of nowhere in Delaware. Every so often John would send enough money to pay for the motel room but a return address was never on the envelope.  
Flashes from the previous night came into Sam’s mind. After his shift at the local crappy fast food restaurant, he had come back to the room him and Dean shared to find Dean having sex on Dean’s bed. The local jock football star (who had a very nice girlfriend who was very much in love with him) from the high school they were both going to was naked below Dean, who was also naked. Dean was working his dick slowly into the jock (Crowley was his name), who was shuddering underneath him and clinging to the headboard.  
The sex wasn’t really the surprising part to Sam, he heard all about what Dean did while he was at work. It also wasn’t a secret that Dean did it with guys. He’d never outright said anything, but Sam figured that they had an understanding that it was there.  
But Sam knew Crowley, and Crowley was only going to hurt Dean over and over and over again, because that’s all he’d done so far. They had been to this town before for a job, and Crowley had promised Dean he’d keep in touch. He promised that Dean was the love of his life, and Dean was happy. Months went by without a word, and Dean didn’t mention it again. When their dad had taken this exit off the highway and pulled into this same motel room to drop them off, Dean’s face had been unreadable.  
When Sam walked in on his older brother’s dick in another guy’s ass (an image he never needed in his head), the door crashed behind him in surprise and the two boys looked towards Sam, effectively killing the mood. Crowley shoved Dean off of him and quickly put his clothes back on, hurrying to not get caught having sex with another guy. Dean tried to reassure Crowley that Sam wouldn’t say anything, but Sam just shrugged. There was yelling and Crowley slapped Dean for talking him into this. After that Crowley just left without another word.  
After Crowley left, Sam tried to tell Dean how little Crowley actually cared about Dean, but it was no use. Crowley had taken an interest in Dean, and Dean received so little attention that he had latched onto it. After a while all there was was a lot of yelling, and eventually Dean shouted that if Sam said anything more against Crowley, he’d leave and never come back. There had been more yelling, more tears, and Dean packed a bag and slammed the door.  
Sam went into the fridge and found all of Dean’s beer that he wasn’t old enough to buy but always somehow had. There was very little memory of what happened after the seventh beer. It was the first time Sam had drunk any alcohol. It was also the last time Dean and Sam spoke for three years.  
Sam left his dad a message but didn’t hear from him either until a month later when he came to pick them up to move for another job. To Sam’s surprise, his father didn’t utter a word about Dean. It was like he ceased to exist the second he had left.  
They continued like that for three years. John would drop off Sam at a motel, he’d go work his job, Sam would go to school and work, and then they’d move. Sam was isolated and alone, and rarely talked to anyone. The only exception was occasionally his Uncle Bobby, who knew Dean had left and knew Sam would leave for his trip.  
When Sam finished high school, John came back a few days before graduation and made them move again, this time to a small town in the mountains of West Virginia. John left for his new job, and Uncle Bobby drove for three days to greet and congratulate Sam on reaching his goal. Sam had $11,000, and would be visiting Chicago, Seattle, San Francisco, LA, Dallas, New Orleans, Orlando, the Outer Banks (just for the beach), NYC, and anywhere in between. The plan was to take the bus, but Uncle Bobby surprised Sam with a renewed Honda Civic from the 90s that Bobby had rebuild himself just for Sam.  
Bobby helped Sam pack everything into the car and get everything set up for the trip. They set it up so that any mail sent to the motel would go back to Bobby's house. The car was packed, Sam had everything he needed and John was completely oblivious to the plan. Sam closed the trunk when his phone rang. It was a number he didn't recognize but he answered it anyways. The voice on the other end caught him completely off guard.  
"Sam?" The voice was shaky and unsure and Sam could tell the person had been crying. They hadn't spoken in three years.  
"Dean?"


	3. Change of Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I go to write this it turns out to be more and more complicated than what I initially imagined. This fic is going to take me a while. The initial concept was just the context to a 600 word thing I wrote for english class, but I started to have fun with it.
> 
> EDIT: This chapter has been revised

“Did something die in your brain, boy?” Bobby gave a bitchface to Sam, who responded with his own. “Dean doesn’t give two shits about you, he made that pretty damn evident when he walked out.”  
“Dean is stranded in Nashville and this is the first time he’s reached out to me in three years.” Bobby sighed. “I don’t care about my trip, I care about seeing my brother.” Sam didn’t really expect Bobby to drop everything and let him go, and something in him wanted Bobby to fight and tell him to go and leave Dean. The other part of him knew that if Dean got to the point of calling him, then something was really bad, and Sam had to fight for his brother.  
Bobby’s face softened. It was obvious there would be no fight. There was an understanding between them that Dean was in trouble, no matter how much either of them wanted to ignore it.  
“Be smart about it.” Bobby instructed to Sam. It served as a reminder that the only person Sam had ever known to care about him was Bobby.  
“I will. It’s Dean.” And with that Sam got in the civic and got on the highway.

Sam loved maps. He had always loved maps. He sat and memorized the roads and turns and knew exactly where to go. The road was 79 South to get out of West Virginia to 65. It would be at least 7 hours (470 miles) to Nashville, and it was 10:00am already.  
The one downside to driving by himself was that Sam hated the silence of driving. He hated the silence of his life in general. His head seemed to spin a bit too much if he let it. For that he was grateful to be heading to Dean. But he also knew the conversation that was coming would not be a pleasant one.  
Sam turned on the radio. He had a ways to go and needed to figure out what he’d be saying to Dean when he got to Nashville. 

At mile 52 Sam realized he needed caffeine if he was going to keep himself awake any longer without conversation. Reluctantly he stopped at a McDonald's just off the highway and bought some coffee. Sam didn’t think he’d ever seen a sadder looking McDonald’s. There only seemed to be one person working, and two other people in the entire place, a man and a woman. They were sitting next to each other and very obviously looking at him and consulting each other on what they saw. Unsure of what to do, he took his coffee and left.  
The highway opened up before him. If Sam could have taken a constant video of the change of scenery he would have, because it was truly incredible. He tried his best to memorize every detail but he knew that there was nothing his brain could collect forever.  
Sam realized he had all the time in the world, and that nothing seemed to be rushed when you were speeding down asphalt.  
At mile 168 Sam stopped at the rest stop on the highway because he’d been holding in the pee from the coffee he bought for over an hour and a half. He needed to get moving so after that he didn’t stop again for another 200 miles.  
At mile 203 the road stopped snaking around the mountains and started going straight through the valleys and off the side of the mountains. There were long stretches of the road with one side of the road next to a cliff upward and the other side next to a drop off. It was exhilarating to drive parts like that. But Sam’s favorite part of the drive was getting into Kentucky. The road opened up before him, and the mountains began to drop off altogether. When he got into Tennessee the area started to get populated again and towns started popping up on either side of the highway.  
It was absolutely beautiful to see the world like this. The only good thing that had come out of his father moving them around was the feelings of watching the world go by as he drove through it.

The Drake Motel was cheap and disgusting, and exactly what Sam was used to. He got in around 8pm. He hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and he was supposed to call Dean and figure out a place to meet when he got in.  
The room was small, and set up like every other motel room he’d lived in his entire life. There was a window on the far side of the room, two beds, and a little table, sink and fridge. The bathroom was right next to him as he walked in. He set his duffel on the bed closest to him. Dialing Dean’s number, Sam sat down on the bed closest to the window. As the phone rang, he opened the shades and looked out across the city landscape. There was a great view of a parking lot and cars, and a highway running into the real downtown. He couldn’t see the skyline (if there even was one) and he couldn’t see any part of the city. Sam sighed, sitting back down on the bed. Going to bigger cities he hoped he would see a skyline that came up in pictures.  
“Heya Sammy!” Sam cringed at the drunken sound of his brother on the other end.  
Choosing to ignore it, he asked where Dean was. “I’m in Nashville, where are we supposed to meet?”  
"Come meet me here! I'm at Springwater!" And Dean hung up.  
"Springwater? Dean what's springwater?" But it was no use; Dean had long since hung up. Sam looked it up to find it was a dive bar on the west side of Nashville.  
Out of everything he was anticipating, he didn’t expect to find Dean drunk off his ass at 8pm. The Dean Sam knew was the kind of person who had been drinking in small amounts since he was 10, because it was always available. But he rarely ever got actually drunk. Sam reminded himself that the Dean he knew was from three years ago, and he had to get to know the Dean that would be in front of him. 

When Sam walked in the door two things were abundantly clear: 1. The lack of asking for Sam’s ID showed they had no consideration for the fact that Sam was 18 and legally not allowed to be here and 2. This place was the grossest dive bar Sam had ever seen. It probably had rats. Or cockroaches. Or both. Sam shuddered.  
It wasn’t hard to find Dean, though. Everyone was around him buying him drinks, and he had his arm around a woman that looked too old and had an inch worth’s of makeup trying to cover it up.  
“Dean, this place is disgusting let’s go.” Sam said. Everyone around him got silent.  
“Naw naw Sammy comon’ have a beer!” The people around Dean cheered and went back to their loud conversations. It was clear Dean came here a lot. He should have figured this was the sort of thing Dean had spent all of three years doing. Even if he’d recently turned 21, a place like this would’ve let him in on any occasion. Not wanting to come back to Delaware without Crowley, Dean had stayed here until it had gone to shit like Sam had said it would.  
Sam moved his head to avoid colliding with Dean’s beer as Dean moved to make out with the very drunk girl next to him. Sam told himself not to assume anything of a story he didn’t know yet, even if he wouldn’t know it for a long time.  
“Dean, let’s go.” Sam pulled him off of the girl, who looked disappointedly into her cup.  
“W-why Sammy?” Dean pulled a pout face.  
“Because you’ve had enough to drink.”  
Dean slammed his drink on the table, spilling half of the contents on the counter. “That’s bullshit.” Dean slurred. Sam didn’t really know what a good counter argument to that was, so he tried to take the drink out of Dean’s hands. In response Dean got off of the chair and set himself into a loose fighting position, his beer in one hand.  
Sam rolled his eyes. He knew how to fight for the most part, Dean had taught him a few years ago and punching bags were easy to find in high school gyms. The swing Dean threw was so loose and sloppy and heavy that Sam easily dodged it. Expecting to make impact, Dean followed his fist past Sam and him and his glass hit the floor with a loud crash.  
Slamming cash down on the bar, Sam pulled Dean up off the ground. He had to half drag and half hold Dean up as they left. Why on earth did he think coming to get Dean would be a good idea?  
Getting Dean out of the bar proved to be harder than Sam anticipated. Dean put up quite a fight just by not helping Sam.  
Sam shoved Dean into his car and started it. He began driving towards the motel.  
“No no no no no.” Dean rolled around in the seat. Sam rolled his eyes at his seemingly 10 year old brother.  
“What now?”  
“I need to get my stuff I can’t leave it overnight or someone will steal it.”  
“Where’s your stuff?” Sam asked, confused.  
“Under route 40 at 14th street.” Dean whispered. Sam drew in a breath. Dean was homeless. He knew it had been bad but hadn’t allowed himself to venture on how bad. Sam turned the car around and drove the short distance there.  
Sam put the car and park and Dean stumbled out to go gather his stuff. Surprisingly, Dean held a guitar in one hand and a backpack in the other. Sam had never known Dean played guitar.  
“You need a shower you smell like a rat's ass.” Sam informed Dean when he got back into the car.  
“Yea no shit Sherlock, thanks.” Dean shot back. But Sam smiled. Dean was slowly becoming more like the Dean Sam remembered as they spoke.  
The drive to the motel was silent. Dean held his guitar between his legs; careful with every turn to not let it hit anything.  
"When did you learn guitar?" Sam asked after about five minutes of silence. It had become more uncomfortable than he could bear.  
"Ehh you know. Basically as soon as I got here." Dean tried to dodge the question.  
"Right and when was that again?" Sam caught it and tried to get more information out of Dean. But this time he just ignored the question all together and kept his eyes forward on the road, his face seemingly carved out of stone.  
Sam gave Dean the closest bed to the door, mostly because he couldn't drag him any further. Dean lay there, face in the pillow so that everything he said was somewhat muffled.  
“Sleep, we’re leaving bright and early tomorrow.”  
“For what?” Dean grumbled, annoyed.  
“Chicago.” Sam replied, eyes sparkling with excitement to get his trip started.  
“Chicago is stupid.” Dean shot back.


	4. The Wrong Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: This chapter has been revised

“DEAN!” Sam shouted for the third time. Dean just waved Sam off. It was way later than Sam wanted to leave, and Dean absolutely refused to wake up. What on earth was the point of a road trip if you weren’t on the road?  
He wasn’t going to let Dean ruin this trip. Being with his brother would make it more interesting, once they got to know each other again. He wanted for another person to assure him that this was a good idea. He wanted to know he wasn’t chasing some ghost of his brother. Ever since Dean had been gone, it felt like a part of Sam had been gone too, and hearing Dean’s voice on the other end of the phone had felt like that piece starting to fall back into place. All Sam wanted to do was follow that longing in his heart to have his brother back by his side. But first he had to show Dean that he was on his side.  
“Next time wake up when I shout and shake you.” Sam whispered, and yanked the sheets and blankets out from under Dean, causing him to fall of the bed in the process. Dean sat up in a huff, his face red and his eyebrows furrowed together. With his hair sticking in all directions, Sam couldn’t help but laugh.  
“Get up! We’re going to Chicago!” Sam called behind him as he walked outside to ready the car. 

The miles from Nashville to Chicago passed slowly in the awkward silence of the car. Dean woke up with a hangover and wanting nothing to do with Sam, as Sam dragged him out of bed, into the shower, and into the car. Every 20 miles Dean had to pee, mostly because Sam practically forced him to drink water and refused to even let him near coffee.  
“It’ll make you feel worse by dehydrating you!” Sam tried to tell Dean, but he just flicked Sam off.  
It became clear that a hangover for Dean consisted of either complaining and arguing with Sam and justifying it by saying how crappy he felt, or sitting and steaming refusing to say anything. After a heated debate over which of them got rights over the radio, Sam just gave up and sat back as Dean fiddled around until he heard some AC/DC.  
At mile 78 Dean blew chunks on the side of the road, but they were back in the car relatively soon after. Neither Dean nor Sam had eaten yet that day and neither wanted to after that.  
The worst of Dean’s hangover was gone by mid-morning around mile 100, the only thing that changed was instead of Dean complaining about having to pee or a headache or nausea, he sat rigid and silent in his seat. Sam didn’t know what on earth he could do to make Dean feel more comfortable. The assumption Sam made was that Dean was embarrassed about everything that had happened but wouldn’t admit it for his life. So Sam was stuck trying to make Dean feel comfortable enough to at least loosen up and at least talk like a normal human.  
Finding something to make a conversation out of was hard when Dean was intent on either saying silent or disputing Sam on every point he made. But Sam was going to be persistent. He was going to make this work. He had to.  
At mile 194 they stopped for a very late lunch. Dean ate very little and Sam was too tired to try and push him.

Sam noticed around mile 227 that the only thing in the world Dean really put any value or care into was his guitar. It was amazing to see the care Sam had known for Dean to show to him be directed to an inanimate object.  
The first hint of it came then because Dean turned off the radio unexpectedly, and took out his guitar. Sam gave him a questioning look, but Dean didn’t notice at all. The guitar was immaculate. It was an absolutely beautiful instrument. Sam was completely speechless. He wanted to say something, to ask where or how he came across such a nice instrument if he was homeless, but the words never found their way to his mouth.  
Dean started singing then. It was an action Sam had never heard Dean do before. Singing as softly as possible, Sam couldn’t make out any words. It just sounded like a humming. Sam recognized the song right away though. It was America by Simon and Garfunkel.  
Let us be lovers, we'll marry our fortunes together.  
I've got some real estate here in my bag.  
So we bought a pack of cigarettes, and Mrs. Wagner's pies,  
And walked off to look for America.  
"Kathy", I said, as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh,  
Michigan seems like a dream to me now.

Sam’s first memory was this playing in their dad’s car as they drove away from their mom’s grave. 

It took me four days to hitch-hike from Saginaw.  
"I've come to look for America."

Their dad had dropped them off in a motel in Lawrence for a job. It never made sense to Sam why he thought dropping them there would be a good idea. The day they got there was the 5-year anniversary of her death. Dean had walked miles with Sam to show him their mother’s grave. Somehow John had found out, and found them standing there, hand in hand. Dean had been crying, and John didn’t like that. While yelling at Dean, John had picked him up and dragged him out to their car, Sam trailing behind and crying.

Laughing on the bus, playing games with the faces,  
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy.  
I said, "Be careful, his bowtie is really a camera."  
"Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat."  
We smoked the last one an hour ago.

As they had driven away from the cemetery, Dean had slumped in the seat and tried to stifle his crying. Sam had put his head on Dean’s shoulder, and America had come on the radio. 

So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine;  
And the moon rose over an open field.  
"Kathy, I'm lost", I said, though I know she was sleeping.  
"I'm empty and aching and I don't know why."

It occurred to Sam that this was probably Dean’s way of trying to show that he was willing to try and rebuild what they had lost. He hoped that was the case. The thought made Sam smile as he hummed along.

“Is there anything you’d like to do in Chicago?” Sam asked around mile 313.  
Dean shrugged. “You pick” he replied, popping some chips into his mouth and chewing loudly.  
“Never been to Chicago.” Sam paused and thought for a minute. “What’s the most touristy thing to do?”  
Dean groaned.  
“What?” Sam asked innocently.  
“We’re not going to be tourists in one of the coolest cities in the country.”  
“Well, what do you suggest if neither of us have ever been here?”  
“I’ve been here before” Dean said quietly. “With Crowley.” Dean tried to sound nonchalant but failed horribly.  
“Oh. Okay.” Sam said, not realizing the implications that probably had for Dean. “I was thinking the art museum. It’s supposed to be really good. What do you think?”  
“I don’t really know”  
“How long were you guys there for?” Sam teased.  
“A week.” Dean said flustered.  
“A week?” Sam realized too late that he should have dropped the subject, but he had too much momentum with Dean opening up for the first time.  
“We didn’t really ever get out to see much of the city.” He admitted.  
“Jesus did all you two do was fuck?” Sam poked some more. It was a step too far, and Sam couldn’t see the red flags coming up.  
“Not all my time with Crowley was shits and giggles.” Dean said defensively.  
“Oh really?”  
“It wasn’t! Those three years were hard on me to.” Dean said darkly. That should have stopped Sam, but it made him angry. It felt like Dean was implying they weren’t hard on him.  
“Do you realize what dad did after you left?” Sam asked quietly. When Dean didn’t answer, Sam pressed on. “He never mentioned you again. It’s like you, just like mom, ceased to exist the minute you weren’t by our side.” Dean still didn’t answer.  
“I was alone for three years.” Sam choked. “Dad didn’t speak to me, no one at school even looked at me.” Sam’s voice was rising with every word. “The only person in the world that gave two shits about me was Uncle Bobby.” He paused, fighting back on tears. He’d never said any of this to anyone. There hadn’t been anyone to say it to. He swallowed, determined to keep his eyes locked on the road. When Sam spoke again, his voice was level. “Do you know what that’s like Dean? To be completely, and utterly alone?” Sam realized as soon as it was out that yes, Dean did know. That’s how Sam had found him.  
“I’m sorry.” Dean said. It was a whisper, and his voiced cracked. He had realized far too late how low of a blow he had given Dean. It was Sam’s turn to be silent. He didn’t want Dean to apologize; he wanted those years of being alone to not have happened.  
“Why’d you even pick me up? You should have just left me in Nashville with Crowley.” Dean said bitterly.  
It took Sam a minute to process an answer. He wanted Dean by his side again. “If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here. Don’t you get that yet, Dean? I dropped literally everything to pick you up the second you called me!” Sam paused but Dean didn’t say anything. “I’d been alone, and suddenly the one person I had always wanted by my side was telling me where they were!” Somewhere in Sam’s mind he knew that this would push Dean away but he was so damn frustrated he couldn’t help it. “You’re my fucking brother! I haven’t seen or talked to you in three years!” Sam stole a glance at Dean and saw wet eyes staring back at him. It came like a punch in the gut that knocked all words out of Sam’s mouth.  
The only thing Sam had wanted to do was show Dean how much he had missed him. Sam wanted Dean to see how much his leaving fucked up his life for three years.  
Dean didn’t say anything for another 200 miles. Neither did Sam.  
Sam had thought the silence of driving alone was bad, but with Dean in the car his head swam even more. There was nothing Sam wanted more than for Dean to come up with an idea for a project for the two of them to do together. They did it when they were younger. One would have an idea, and when they would tell the other about it they’d both get so excited about it and bounce ideas off of one another.  
The only thing Sam could think about was how badly he’d just fucked up. He wanted an idea to pop into his head on how to fix this, but the only thing he felt he could do was just keep driving forward. There were a good 130 miles left in their trip and Sam had no ideas.

At dinner, Sam had to assure Dean time and time again that he had more than enough money for this trip. Dean had refused to eat because he was so worried about wasting Sam’s money. He seemed to slowly come to terms with it over the course of dinner. He seemed to be going back and forth between accepting it and not believing it, but Sam took that as a partial win.  
Sam did in fact have plenty of money to have Dean come along. He had over saved and was planning on splurging on shit in the cities. With Dean they wouldn’t live like kings or anything but they wouldn’t have to live out of his car, either. Besides, Sam had a nice surprise for Dean when they got to Chicago. He had found money in the glove compartment before dinner, along with a little note from Bobby. 

At mile 438 Sam and Dean sat in complete silence side by side. This silence wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It was a silence of two people who knew every inch of each other and didn’t need to vocalize what they were thinking for it to be heard. Sam was surprised that after such a short time they could fall back into this understanding, but he supposed with brothers it was just a natural thing. From the radio, The Avett Brothers poured through the speakers  
There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light  
In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right  
And it comes in black and it comes in white  
And I'm frightened by those that don't see it

Sam felt okay. In fact, he felt comfortable and content. Dean had pulled out a notepad next to him and had started jotting down notes. Sam didn’t try and see what they were. He let the song fill the empty space he didn’t know was there.

When nothing is owed, deserved, or expected  
And your life doesn’t change by the man that’s elected  
When you’re loved by someone you’re never rejected  
Decide what to be and go be it

Sam had always loved this song. It was perfect for driving and made him feel like he was rolling through miles of places and lives even if it came on when he was standing still. The song made him feel like those three years without Dean hadn’t happened, and that his dad hadn’t made the mistakes he made.

There was a dream and one day I could see it  
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it  
There was a kid with a head full of doubt  
So I scream till I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out

The miles passed by quickly after that. They talked occasionally, pointing out the old steel factories when they were in Indiana, and noting the smell and how unbearable it was. When they got into the actual city Dean turned into a puppy jumping up and down in the seat next to Sam and pointing out special landmarks he remembered. Sam wondered when the last time Dean had actually been to Chicago, and wondered again what had happened between him and Crowley. It was a question for another day. If Dean wanted to put on this façade, Sam would go along with it until he opened up.

When Sam pulled over to the side of the road, Dean was almost speechless. The look on his face was reward enough.  
“You...you got a hotel?” Dean asked in wonder, standing in the doorway to the very expensive downtown Chicago hotel. “You told me it was motels all month!”  
“Bobby gave me some extra money for my first night stay.” Sam replied shyly. He had wanted to keep this as a surprise to Dean all day.  
The valet took their car and the boys stepped inside the hotel. Sam was painfully aware of how badly they stood out in their old greyed clothing, but the grin of absolute wonder on his brother’s face made it all worth it. They walked over to the front desk to check in.  
“Winchester.” Sam told the clerk. It felt good to give his real name. John had never checked them in under their real name. “Room for two”  
The clerk typed some stuff into the computer and Sam got his first good look at the hotel. The doorway they had come through had two staircases on either end of the doors. The staircases led up to the second floor, which had a balcony looking over the doorway. The light in that room had a golden glow, partly from the staircase being a gold and partly the yellow lighting.  
“Sorry, there must have been a mix up, the only room we have under that name only has one bed”  
“Nah it’s fine this one can sleep on the floor.” Sam waved to wear Dean was, smirking.  
“Bitch.” Dean shot at Sam.  
“Jerk.” Sam shot back, and Dean smiled. This might be a cool trip after all.


	5. The Windy City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You bitches ready for some castiel??!!!!! Also I understand the lollapalooza scalper tickets are very much underpriced considering that's actual face value of lollapalooza tickets, but take it as it comes I set a number of money I gotta stick to it semi realistically. No fake credit cards in this story.  
> The museum of science and industry and the Chicago institute of art are my two favorite museums in Chicago. However I haven't been to either of them recently, so if my information on them is a little off, just bare with it and enjoy the story instead.  
> Also I'm hoping to participate in a very run down version of NaNoWraMo with this story. I'm not going to count words though, just focus on writing a little bit more every day. I really, really like this
> 
> EDIT: This chapter has been revised

The hotel was one of the prettiest buildings Sam had ever seen. The rooms were large and pristine. There was one large window on one side, and it just happened to look out across the park right across from them. Sam saw the famous Bean sculpture he had briefly read about in one corner.  
When they had gotten their stuff into the room, Dean got right in the shower but Sam wanted to explore. He had never stayed in a place so beautiful before. There was a theme of marbled archways, and a tan stone above that. Sam went to the balcony looking out over the doorway to watch the people coming in. Tall men in business suits and ties came in with small suitcases and briefcases, but also very drunk rich people coming in from some kind of concert across the street in what looked to be a park. It was a Friday night. Anything could be going on in such a huge city.  
Sam almost didn't hear his phone ring with all the noise and talking coming in. He assumed this wasn't a normal occurrence here from the annoyed look on the businessmen's faces.  
"Hello?" Sam asked after answering his phone.  
"Hey, boy." Bobby's familiar voice made him smile. "How's the trip going?"  
"We just got into Chicago." Sam said, grinning.  
"How was the drive?"  
"With hungover Dean?" Sam scoffed. "It went about how you'd expect." Sam turned his back to the balcony and faced the elevators. "I don't know what happened in Nashville, but it changed him. I only kind of know him."  
On the other side of the line he heard Bobby cough.  
"You boys have a lot to catch up on." Bobby noted. "You're not the same person either."  
Sam looked down, avoiding eye contact with a person that wasn't there. "Yea..."  
"Anyway," Bobby sighed. "Have fun, be sure to visit the Museum of Science and Industry, supposed to be their best one."  
"Yeah I'll talk to you later Bobby"  
"Yea"  
"Oh and Bobby?" Sam asked before he hung up.  
"Yea?"  
"Thanks for booking this hotel you really saved my skin"  
"Congrats on graduating, you did me proud." Sam smiled, and they both hung up.  
After his call with Bobby, Sam went back to people watching. He was so engrossed in it that he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Sam turned to see Dean standing there, that same look of wonder on his face.  
“I came out and you were gone, so I came down to the lobby and saw you up here. Those stairs may look pretty but they’re a bitch to climb” Sam smiled, shaking his head.  
"There must be some kind of concert across the street"  
Dean waved it off. "Probably nothing we can't check out tomorrow. I don't know about you but I'm ready to pass out." Sam nodded, and they both went upstairs.

By the time the two of them woke up it was time for lunch. Sam hadn’t bothered to set any kind of alarm. They were on vacation, and he had no doubt there would be enough stuff to do in one of the largest cities in the world.  
They were ready in 10 minutes, Dean insisting he know where to find the best burgers in the city.  
"How the hell would you know?" Sam insisted. But Dean just shrugged it off and looked through the map pamphlet he'd gotten from the hotel lobby.  
Walking outside dispelled any desire for burgers. The biggest concert Sam or Dean had ever seen was happening across the street in Grant Park.  
Dean's face lit up at the three giant stages set up. Lollapalooza was spelled out in big bubbly letters across the entrance. They walked towards them, passing the Bean sculpture. Sam tried to point it out to Dean, but he just shrugged him off, motioning to move faster towards the entrance to Lollapalooza. Dean was getting more excited by the minute.  
"Lollapalooza" said Sam, confused. "What's that?" He turned to Dean. Dean was looking hopefully at the sign and trying to hide the look of longing. It made him shake his head at his older brother.  
"I can't believe the one weekend just happen to be in Chicago, Lollapalooza is happening." Dean said, practically jumping up and down in excitement.  
There was a lot happening inside and outside of the park. Inside there were food vendors and food trucks, huge crowds of people trying to get to and from different stages. There were at least three visible stages. Outside of the park, across the street from where they were standing, there were long lines of people waiting to get in, and scalpers shouting that they were selling tickets. It was overwhelming in the most exciting way, and Sam couldn't help but smile.  
"Wait here" Sam said to Dean, walking up to one of the big guys shouting, "tickets for sale! Tickets for sale!"  
"How much?" Sam asked, getting out his wallet.  
"$200 each" Sam looked in his wallet where all of his money for the month was. He sighed. For Dean, this was worth it. He needed some good things in his life.  
"You got two?" The scalper nodded.  
Sam handed him the $400 and took the tickets.  
"How much did that scalper rip you off for?" Dean asked after they'd gotten in.  
"Trust me, you don't want to know." But Sam was pretty sure Dean didn't hear the answer, because as they walked in, the sounds of a music festival drowned everything else out.

They sat down at the back of the crowd, where it was thin enough for them to sit comfortably and still listen. Neither of them had any desire to brave the crowd. A guy handing out free blankets gave them one and they put in on the ground to sit on. Death Cab for Cutie was on the stage, or at least that's what the program Sam picked up said.

It was one hundred degrees, as we sat beneath a willow tree, whose tears didn't care, they just hung in the air, and refused to fall, to fall.  
And I knew I'd made horrible call, and now the state line felt like the Berlin wall, and there was no doubt about which side I was on.

Sam looked around at all the people. They had their arms around each other and some were singing along. He was almost painfully aware of the fact that he didn't know what concert etiquette was.

Cause I built you a home in my heart, with rotten wood, it decayed from the start.  
Cause you can't find nothing at all, if there was nothing there all along.  
No you can't find nothing at all, if there was nothing there all along.

Sam thought about growing up. This was his graduation present. His own father didn't even know he'd graduated. When Sam was little, he had tried very hard to love his father. But there wasn't a person there to love.  
Dean and uncle Bobby had been the most family Sam had gotten.

I braved treacherous streets, and kids strung out on homemade speed.  
And we shared a bed in which I could not sleep, at all, woo, hoo, woo, hoo  
Cause at night the sun in retreat, made the skyline look like crooked teeth

Sam looked over at Dean then, and realized that if he thought about the cards life dealt him, he would see his life as a series of one horrible event after another. But there were good things in his life, he just had to work at them and fight for the few that were there.

Dean got up after Death Cab for Cutie and bought them both some lunch and bought himself a beer after assuring Sam he would only buy the one, and drink it slowly (he said the last part a little too sarcastically and Sam rolled his eyes).

It was a beautiful day. My Morning Jacket was playing 'Remnants' on the stage. Sam didn't know this, but Chicago summers were supposed to be unbearably hot and humid and disgusting. But today was beautiful, and here wasn't any humidity at all. The sun was shining. The whole atmosphere made Sam feel more whole, like he was starting to figure it all out.

Remnants of the empire, artifacts of love Will I meet the designer? What will he dream up?  
Remnants of the empire, gravity awake What's held down to the ground? Next round goes into space.

Sam didn't know the lyrics to the bands playing, but he could feel the live music flowing through his body. It was a sensation he'd never had before. He'd never been to any kind of concert. Slowly he found his mouth curving upwards into a smile. Next to him Dean pulled out a small notepad and pen and started writing down illegible notes. Sam closed his eyes and focused all his energy on the music playing.  
Sam took out his phone and wrote down the name of the band to look up later. The list would get very long over the course of the weekend.

The day progressed with bands like The Black Keys, The Shins, Patti Smith, The Decemberists, and Wilco. They all performed on the main stage. Sam and Dean stayed to the back of the crowd, where it was less intense.  
At one point Sam looked over and a guy no older than himself was sitting next to him, and close. The smell of alcohol was all around him. When he saw Sam looking at him, confused, he grinned.  
"Hey there hot stuff." Sam just got more confused.  
"Umm. Hi?" Sam looked over to Dean, who just shrugged and waved him on to keep talking to the guy, obviously amused. The guy was attractive. He had long gold - brown hair and similar colored eyes. Sam tried to respond to the guy, but it wasn't like he'd ever flirted before.  
“You betttter close that mouth ofyours” the guy said “never know what yoouuu’ll caaaatch.” He slurred and clumsily winked. Sam just gaped further. The guy scotched closer and Sam was aware of his very hot alcohol breath on his neck. There was a noticeable height difference that Sam was grateful for at this moment.

"Gabriel!" A deep voice came running up behind him. He had ruffled dark brown hair and eyes that were so big and so blue that it was almost impossible not to look at them. The man named Gabriel looked over and backed away from Sam slowly. "Caaastiel!" He slurred, stood up stumbling, and embraced the man named Castiel as if he hadn't seen him in years. Castiel rolled his eyes.  
Castiel guided Gabriel back to a group of disapproving people. Probably their family, Sam assumed. They took Gabriel and disappeared into the crowd. Castiel ran back after leaving Gabriel with their family.  
"I'm so sorry for him.” Castiel panted. “I'm Castiel" he said, sticking out his hand.  
"I'm Sam." Sam said, shaking his hand. "This is my brother Dean." Dean waved.  
"Sorry about my brother. He drank a little too much today. "  
Sam waved it away.  
"Tell him I'm flattered." He said, grinning. Sam looked over to Dean, who was moving his head with the band that was playing.  
Castiel looked back to where his family had been, but they'd abandoned him again. Sighing, he turned back to Sam.  
“If I can find him.” Castiel said. “Can I sit down with you guys? I don't quite feel like spending the entire day looking for my family with a dead phone” he pulled out his phone and twirled it around. “Besides they'd end up leaving without telling and make me get home by myself.”  
Sam and Dean exchanged a shrug. “Go ahead.” Dean said.

Castiel stayed with them, and while it was slightly awkward, Sam was grateful for new company. It was nice to see a new face. And Castiel liked to talk about his life. Whether it was that he just felt comfortable with Sam and Dean, or that he told his life story to anyone who would listen, he talked a lot that afternoon. Sam didn't mind, though. It had been so long since he had heard anyone else’s life, he forgot that he wasn't the only one with hard things happening. He listened intently to everything Castiel had to say, and he and Dean had a very intense conversation about tv shows and movies Sam had never even heard of.  
He listened and learned a lot about both Dean and Castiel then.  
Castiel told them about how he'd grown up in Chicago, and how his family was huge. Everyone in his family had weird biblical names because his family was so religious. Castiel told them about his growing up and his inability to come out to his family. Dean nodded his sympathy. He had wanted to come out to their dad for years now. Sam had never been in a relationship or anything like it before so he didn't know at all what he would come out as. He’d never looked into different terms. He just sort of had sex with whoever was there. Dean gave him a look of surprise when he said that but Sam just shrugged. ‘You left’ he wanted to remind Dean, but he kept his mouth shut.  
To Sam’s surprise, Dean opened up about some of what happened in Nashville. He talked about some of what he and Crowley did that summer. They went to pride and did all the really touristy things. They traveled around a bit and came to Chicago. The two of them traveled to Washington DC and went to monuments and museums. They didn't have a place to stay so they slept in Crowley’s car.  
Sam told them both about his idea for this read trip, and how he'd been saving up for it for almost 10 years now. He told them about every city he planned to visit and his hope that he would meet to people and experience new things because he'd been so limited in the things he could do and all he'd been exposed to until then.  
Dean told Castiel about the car their dad drove.  
“I wonder what happened to that thing.” Dean said, looking out as if the crowd of concert goers would answer him.  
“He still drives it.” Sam assured him.  
Dean’s eyes brightened at the comment. After a moment he responded, “we should steal it.” Sam laughed and nodded.

Eventually they moved to the smaller stage and heard bands like Neutral Milk Hotel, Bright Eyes, and the Barenaked Ladies.

Castiel told them about his family. His oldest brother was Michael, and he basically ran the house because their mother was always working. He was basically a dictator until he left for college, when the second oldest Lucifer had taken his place, followed by Rafael when Lucifer left for college. The day Raphael left for college was the last time castiel had seen his father. The next oldest was his sister Anna, then Gabriel who they had met, then Castiel, and then Hannah, Castiel’s younger sister.  
“Gabriel is the normal one.” Cas admitted.  
“What’s so weird about you?” Dean asked, and Castiel winked as a response. Sam smiled and just shook his head.

Around 9pm the sun set. It set on the downtown side of Grant Park. The glow illuminated people's faces yellow and created looming shadows from the downtown buildings. Castiel took a picture of the brothers with a cheap disposable camera Sam had bought to show Bobby pictures of the trip.

The three of them sat there until three in the morning, listening to each band and talking about anything and everything. Sam mostly sat and listened. It had been three years since he had really been around people and talked, and he found he wasn’t used to it, and that he was very tired. Instead he sat back and watched Castiel and Dean talk to each other.  
Some band played in the background. The lights from the stage created huge shadows.  
He could see Castiel hanging on Dean’s every word. There was something there, Sam could see it already.  
When Sam tuned back into the conversation, Castiel was talking about his family again.  
“My family is kind of a mess.” Castiel admitted. He was lying on his side and holding a half- full beer he’d been slowly drinking since 10.  
Dean didn't say anything. He was laying on his back, looking up at the light polluted sky.  
Castiel pressed on. “They were all very religious. Had a lot of children. But my dad left when I was young and I haven't heard from him since.” Dean nodded slowly. When he spoke his voice was hoarse.  
“Yeah. Our mom died when I was four. Murdered. Our dad went a little crazy. Spent a week locked in their bedroom drinking. Quit his job and took us around the country doing construction and shit.” It was Castiel’s turn to nod.  
“I guess everyone's family is a little crazy.” Castiel whispered.  
Sam spoke up then. “It's why I wanted to go on this road trip. Our dad took us to all of these places and left us to fend for ourselves, but we never saw any cities.” Castiel looked up at Sam, and again Sam noted how huge and all consuming his eyes were. Sam glanced at Dean, who had his face screwed up in a pained expression.  
“My family never traveled.” Sam was grateful when Castiel spoke again. “I've lived in Chicago my whole life. Which has its perks, Chicago can be a cool place” he looked out across the sea of faces nodding along to this no name band on the smallest stage, Sleeping at Last. “I just need to get away sometimes.” He said rather quietly.

With golden string, our universe was clothed in light  
Pulling at the seams, our once barren world now brims with life

Dean nodded his agreement. “I know what you mean” he murmured.  
Sam nodded. “Me too.”

That we may fall in love every time we open up our eyes  
I guess space and time takes violent things, angry things, and makes them kind

Silence fell between them. Sam sat back and watched this guy. The only two things on the stage were a piano and a guitar. It was two guys, one playing the instruments and singing, and the other pressing different buttons on a machine making violin, drum, and horn melodies. He heard Castiel’s voice begin to sing along next to him and looked over.

We are the dust of dust, we are the apple of God’s eye, we are infinite as the universe we hold inside.

“What?” He looked from Sam to Dean and blushed. “They're a local band.”  
“What's the rest of the music scene here like?” Dean asked, sitting up and looking excitedly at Cas. Castiel sat up with him to look Dean in the eyes.  
Castiel let out a breath. “It's huge” he said after a slight pause. “And I won't pretend to know what's good and what isn't.” He looked back up at the stage. “But I follow these guys a bit.”

They were the last band of the night, and stayed around a bit while things were being cleaned up. Everyone was worn out so Sam offered for Castiel to spend the night in their hotel room. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up the next day on the couch.  
He looked at the digital clock by the tv. It read 8:34. Castiel was curled up in a corner of the bed, and Dean was sprawled out on the rest of it, his legs dangling off the side.  
He threw a pillow at Dean and shouted “wakey wakey eggs and sin!” And started laughing as Dean shot him the coldest glare he could manage and sat up. Castiel stirred and slowly opened his eyes as well.  
“Hiya Cas!” Sam smiled, sitting up. Cas just grunted in response and rolled over to the other side.  
“Ohhhhhhhh nope if I have to be forced up so do you!” Dean shoved Castiel off of the bed and he fell on a heap on the floor. Neither Dean nor Sam could see his body, just his head that popped up.  
“Okay I'm up I'm up gosh.” Castiel grunted.  
Dean nodded smugly.  
Castiel slowly stood up.  
“Soooooooo.” Sam started. “What should we do today?” Dean and Cas both gave him a questioning look. “I mean I could sit and watch music like that for ages, but we leave Chicago tonight, and I wanted to see some more of the city.”  
“Did you have anything in mind?” Cas asked.  
“Well I figured you're from here, you'd know some cool things to do.”  
Castiel tilted his head, thinking.  
“While you two ladies ponder the events for today, I'm going to shower.” Dean said, pointing to the bathroom. Sam nodded.

Sam took out a piece of paper and started writing down numbers of the amounts he'd been spending. Yesterday he had bought the lollapalooza tickets, and a sausage for both him and Dean. Today they'd be spending for getting into all of the museums, so he'd have to stop by a grocery store and buy stuff for sandwiches. He did some calculations on the sheet of paper. They'd have to sleep in the car on the way to Seattle because of his little splurge. But that was alright, nothing they both weren't used to.  
“Is there a grocery store nearby?” Sam asked Cas.  
“Yea there's a Trader Joe's about three blocks away.”  
“Damn. You know this area so well.”  
Cas shrugged. “I've lived here my entire life.”  
“It must be so nice to know a place so well.” Castiel tilted his head again. Sam noticed that he did that when he was searching for a response to something.  
“Yeah. I guess it is. I've never thought about it, really.”  
“Dean and I have never lived anywhere long enough to really learn a place like that.” Sam looked into his hands.  
“Dean and you what?” Dean asked, opening the bathroom door with nothing but a towel around him and letting out steam into the cold room.  
“Nothing.” Sam said, smiling. “Hurry up so I can shower too.” Dean waved him off and grabbed his clothes from a duffel.  
“Wait are those the same clothes you wore-” Sam didn't even finish before Dean cut in.  
“I have two pairs of jeans and two shirts Sam, shoot me.”  
Sam didn't know what he expected of Dean, being homeless when he found him. But the connection between not having clean or good clothes and not having a home hadn't been made in Sam’s mind. Words weren't coming to him to know what to say to Dean, who had walked back into the bathroom and shut the door. One more thing to budget for was getting Dean some new clothing, no matter how much of a fight Dean would put up.  
“I'm going to run to that Trader Joe’s.” Cas nodded, and Sam ran out.

Sam got the sandwich and snack stuff he needed. While he was checking out, he couldn't stop thinking about what other stuff Dean must not have.  
“Where's the closest drugstore?” He asked the clerk.  
“Down the street like five blocks.” The young girl answered. She looked the same age as Sam. He felt bad for her. He'd had enough retail and food jobs to know how killer they were.  
“Thanks.” Sam replied, smiling.

He bought Dean some deodorant and a toothbrush, as well as some pads of paper. He'd seen Dean taking notes in the tiny pad and thought he would enjoy an actual notebook. The only issue was how to get it to Dean. He didn't want Castiel to know and he didn't want to make Dean accept charity. He'd have to sneak it into Dean’s duffel at some point.

When Sam got back to the hotel he found Dean and Cas had bought breakfast already and a bagel was sitting out on the table for him. They'd been talking more, laughing even. Sam tried to trade his satisfied look with one of confusion and surprise when they both looked over.  
He held up the bags of stuff he'd bought. “Lunch” he mumbled and nodded to Dean, who took the Trader Joe's bag and immediately began making sandwiches. They used to do this for school when they were short on money. It took a few weeks for sandwich meat and bread to go bad, especially if they're kept in a cooler or fridge. So they would get loaves of bread and meat and Dean would make them sandwiches.  
Sam motioned towards the bathroom. “Gonna go shower.” He mumbled some more. He was tired and sweating his ass off from the walk. He needed to start exercising. It had been far too long since he had done any kind of real physical activity. There was a no better time to start than after graduation at 18. Sam put the CVS bag on the bed.

When both Sam and Dean had showered they all sat down around the table and Cas read them off the list of interesting things he'd come up with to do.  
He paced back and forth and looked at his feet while he talked. “There's the Museum of Science and Industry, which I've been to a few times and is always fun. There's Adler Planetarium which has a brilliant view of the skyline but the actual planetarium itself is okay. We could go to Navy Pier but it's a complete tourist trap and would be horribly busy this time of year. And then there's the Institute of Art down the street. Probably the best art museum in the world and my favorite.” Castiel seemed to not breathe the entire time. When he finished he looked up at Sam and Dean. “How'd I do?” The pleading look begging for acceptance caused Dean to laugh. He stood up and patted Castiel’s shoulder.  
“Great, Cas. Fantastic.” Dean spoke first. “What do you think Sam?” Sam was looking at Cas, confused. When he heard Dean speak he snapped out of it.  
“The art museum sounds fantastic, especially since it's so close.”  
Dean nodded. “Yea. Sounds sufficiently boring!” Dean teased.  
“Then maybe the museum of science and industry, I've heard lots of great things about it.” Cas and Dean nodded.  
Sam stood up. “Let’s Ferris Bueller this shit!” Dean shouted, holding his hand out for a high five. Sam rolled his eyes and tans walked past Dean, who put on a pouty face and trailed after Sam. Castiel tilted his head, confused, but neither Sam or Dean saw.

They gathered up their things and checked out of the hotel. They decided to drop off their duffel bags in Sam’s car and then walk to the art institute, since it was only a few blocks away.  
It was a lot more humid that day than it had been the day before. Sam started to feel it after a while.  
Sam noted how excited Castiel was walking to the art institute. He had a big smile on his face, and he was going on and on about the art in the institute. His favorite paintings to see were the impressionists and the paintings and drawings. Everything in there was cool, but you could spend days in there so you had to consolidate to just the things you really wanted to see. Both Sam and Dean agreed for Cas to be the tour guide and show them all of his favorites. Dean walked beside him, and Sam behind.  
He was a bit awkward, Sam noted. There was something very sweet about him, but very sheltered. It was as if he had lived in Chicago, but he had seen very little of it. He knew every street, but not the culture. It was interesting the way he could dominate a conversation while he was talking, and go on about something very minute and make it seem as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. But if someone else was talking, he hung on every word and seemed to absorb it completely. Castiel looked like he was committing every word they said to his memory, engraving it into his skull.

The building museum was beautiful, just like every other building in Chicago. There was a large green lion in the front that Sam insisted Cas take a picture of him and Dean in front of. Dean accused him of being a tourist and Sam informed him that they were, in fact, tourists and to indulge his 18 year old tourist heart and let him have a picture.

Castiel insisted on paying admission for Sam and Dean.

Castiel knew a lot about paintings. He knew less about the modern stuff and sculpture, but there was definitely knowledge still there.  
Dean looked rather bored the entire time and tried to rush Sam and Castiel through the painters. Castiel wanted to tell them all he knew about each painter and painting and Dean wasn't listening. He wanted to get to the Museum of Science and Industry Castiel had told them about, with its weather machines and toys. Sam rolled his eyes every time Dean went and sulked on one of the benches.  
When they got to the impressionists, Castiel held his breath. The very first painting caught Dean’s attention, because it was one that they had directly used in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.  
“Wait, I know this one.” Dean said. With Castiel’s direction, they started far off and slowly walked closer.  
“Made of millions and millions of tiny dots of color.” Castiel breathed. “Seurat.”  
“Wow.” Sam agreed.  
“Huh.” Dean said. “Well I guess that's kind of cool.” An abrupt change happened then. Dean started hanging on Cas’s every word as well. He clearly knew the most about impressionists and eventually a crowd gathered around and followed as Castiel led them through Monet’s Water Lilies and Haystacks, Van Gogh's self portrait and Bedroom. He knew something about each painting or painter in the exhibit. There wasn't a sound in the room as Castiel talked. No one interrupted, no one asked questions. The excitement Castiel felt as he started talking was tangible and audible. He moved back and forth and bounced from foot to foot as he talked. He didn't speak quickly, as if he had to push every thought out before he lost it, but rather deliberately, as if he had been practicing this speech for ages and was just waiting for someone to be willing to hear it.  
“He learned to draw and paint when he was 15.” Castiel said, looking thoughtfully at the self portrait and bedroom next to each other. “The sketches from that time are nothing compared to his later stuff though.” He pointed to the drawings on the far wall. “He decided to become an artist after a failed attempt at being a pastor.” Sam wondered how he knew so much. “His paintings were too dark and the style of impressionism at the time was bright, so they had a lot of trouble selling. So he started to broaden the palette and use some brighter colors.” Sam noticed the color change from what Cas had said was earlier stuff to the later stuff. “In 1890 he shot himself in the chest, and screwed that up in such a way that he lived for 30 hours and died of an infection from the wound.” Castiel turned around the room and looked at everything hanging there. “Most of these are from the year before he died.”  
“Couldn’t even kill himself right” Dean whispered under his breath, but Sam heard.   
Castiel talked about Degas and his influence by Manet, and pointed to the Manet paintings across the room. He said how Degas was lucky and painted his entire life.  
“He was at the forefront of the impressionist movement. They were a group of young painters that organized exhibitions together. There was a good deal of conflict between the differing styles of artists like Monet and Degas and the media’s popularizing the term ‘impressionism’. Towards the end of his life all his friends left because he loved picking fights. That was the time when he did more pastel work. But the bulk of the work here is from the 1870’s.” Castiel noted as they walked around the room. “He spent his life slowly going blind. Finally died alone and unable to see in 1917.”  
“The irony of a painter and visual artist losing their sight” Dean added audibly this time.  
Sam noticed how Castiel somehow made Dean pay attention and be interested. It was new for Sam to see Dean take any kind of interest in history at all. And he seemed to hang on every word. Sam also loved hearing all Castiel had to say. It was so much information to know, and Castiel obviously knew it well.  
When Castiel got to Monet he talked less about Monet’s life and more about each painting. He went through every haystack and talked about the different palettes and colors he used. He talked about the light colors and the take on Impressionism he took, choosing to paint landscapes as opposed to people like Degas. Cas stopped at the caricatures.  
“He had such a way of seeing people…” He trailed off.

“You know a lot about art.” Sam informed Castiel as they sat on the bench outside the gift shop. They were waiting for Dean to finish. Sam didn't know what he was looking for, but he fervently insisted they go in.  
“I learn about artist’s lives to stop living my own for at least a little while.” Castiel responded. “I love the idea of taking the world and turning into something you can look at forever. Taking one moment and saving it forever,” Sam nodded and Castiel continued, “when I was talking about those artists and paintings, how much did you think about your own life?”  
Sam thought about it. “I didn't.” He admitted.  
Castiel smiled and leaned closer to Sam. “That's the secret.” He whispered.  
Dean walked out of the gift shop then with his own small bag of postcards.  
“You girls ready to go?” Sam shook his head, smiling and stood up.

To get to the Museum of Science and Industry, the three of them all walked back to the Hilton and drove Sam’s car to the museum. Castiel directed from the backseat. This museum was also in a gorgeous old building. The columns and sculptures around created an old feeling that juxtaposed the science instruments inside that gave such a modern feel.  
Sam, Dean, and Cas going through the museum of Science and Industry caused more chaos than the group of elementary schoolers there at the same time. They went on the coal mine ride a few more times than was actually allowed and stampeded through exhibits like children.  
When they got to the weather wing, Dean and Sam fought over who got to make a tornado first, Castiel standing there apologizing to the small children who wanted a turn. Just as the little kid looked like he was about to cry, Sam and Dean ran to the sandstorm simulator.  
Sam spent an entire 30 minutes by himself in the miniature Chicago. He walked around the room and looked at every single building and street and memorized it all. This was his first city and he wanted to remember every single aspect of it. He took out the disposable camera but only allowed himself one picture.  
After he had gone through the entire miniature city he checked his watch, and realized that Dean and Cas had long past left the room, Dean rolling his eyes at Sam’s nerdy-ness.  
Castiel insisted on also paying for the mirror maze. They went through in a single file line, not saying anything to one another in favor of admiring the surality of the scene.

Sam came out of the gift shop with a sweatshirt that said “ThINK” out of elements. Dean had surprised Sam by pulling out a few hundred dollars and buying the leather NASA jacket. When Sam gave him a look, Dean gave him a bitchface back.  
“What? I've saved my own money.”  
Sam raised his eyebrows.  
“Okay so I stole it from Crowley, shoot me.” Sam rolled his eyes but let it go.  
They raced back to the car, Sam barely winning and more do to his height advantage than actual running ability. It was about 8pm and the sun was just starting to set. Clouds were slowly rolling in but the sky was still open enough to see the transition from bright blue to orange. The clouds that were in the sky were a soft pink.  
Castiel got in the back and Dean sat shotgun. Sam drove and Cas directed them back to his house through the city streets on Sam’s request. He wanted to see the real streets he memorized off of the miniature city.

They stopped on the side of the road that Cas told them was his house in Lincoln Park. The houses were beautiful and old and there were trees all around. The three of them got out of the car. The weather had turned for the worse and storm clouds threatened to spill over.  
Castiel looked at the ground. “I guess this is goodbye.” He looked like a wounded puppy. Sam thought about the home life he was going back to.  
“Listen, man, you know where we're going. If you're ever close just give us a call and we’ll meet up.” Dean said, scratching his cell phone number on a piece of paper he tore out of his small notebook. Cas nodded. Sam remembered how he said he'd never been out of Chicago and doubted he would get a chance to leave now. But it was still worth the offer.  
“It was so nice meeting you.” Sam assured him.  
Castiel turned and walked up the steps to his house, his head hanging low. Opening the door a crack, he whispered under his breath, “Seattle, San Francisco, LA, Dallas, New Orleans, Orlando, Outer Banks, New York City.”  
Sam and Dean walked around to the car and got in as Castiel walked in his house. That was where they were going. That was their road.  
“To Seattle?” Sam asked Dean.  
“To Seattle.” Dean agreed.


	6. Dean's Notes 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what Dean is writing in his tiny notebook. While you wait for the next chapter, here are his notes.

6.21.03  
I found this notebook lying on the side of the road. I stole a pen from Tootsie’s. Now I can write down all those lyrics I’ve kept in my head and memorized. So here goes. (No judgement zone)

Dragons and elephants sing inaudible melodies  
as they walk down the street and talk about love  
Dragons and elephants that spout fire and stomp  
With the best of intentions and a broken heart

If all we are is stories than let’s make this one the best they’ve ever heard  
Cuz I can’t get this chorus out of my head  
And at night you keep me awake, thinking of all the stars we’ll reach, thinking of all the songs we’ll sing  
You and me, we’ll conquer the world. So take my hand.

The waves will wash away these words before you read them  
But even the ocean can’t wash away all the sand on the shore  
Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow, you’ll still be here.  
The world turns and faces change  
And all these untold stories get to me sometimes  
But just like these words, it’ll all wash away.

6.23.03  
The road rumbles above me as I shiver down below

The world is paper mache as Carlo Marx said. The mountains are paper mache, people’s faces are paper mache. They look real but they’re hollow. Everything is hollow on the inside. No one has more thought than the surface, which is paper mache.

All I got is shitty one liners and repetitive ideas I will never write a song

6.25.03  
There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light  
There was a dream and one day I could see it  
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it  
There was a kid with a head full of doubt  
So I scream till I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out. 

Cause I built you a home in my heart, with rotten wood, it decayed from the start.

Raising up the empire, innocence and faith  
What will hold you up? And what will stand in your way, way?  
Then I saw a new heaven, formed in the bleeding light of dusk  
All souls, all faiths, always we were one

Remnants of a broken city

These lyrics speak of light in dark places. I feel that darkness, but I haven’t found that light. I see light when I look at Castiel, though. I don’t know if it’s meant for me, but I hope he sees it for himself. He is young and innocent and doesn’t quite understand that the world will rip him apart if he gets too close to me. But he wants to know everything.

I see Sam looking over at me writing, and I see his curiosity. He always had big eyes that reflected his curiosity.

6.26.03  
Living blind - irony of degas living as a painter and slowly going blind  
Can't even kill yourself right

The road changes with every mile. It goes from grand to desolate going out of the city, then the road closes into trees

The darkness is broken only by the lights of the city. As we get farther and farther from the city the highway gets darker, yet we follow it. We are in farmland now, and the only visible light is from the headlights.


	7. Constellations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of past suicidal thoughts
> 
> EDIT: This chapter has been revised

The first part of their drive was spent in silence. To Sam it felt rejuvenating to have silence after two days of meeting people. He enjoyed it a lot but two entire days of it grew tiresome. The time spent in the car those first few hours were spent gathering his thoughts and energy of the people and things Sam had seen in Chicago.  
The sun started to set at mile 17. Driving west felt like they were chasing the sunset. Just like the night of Lollapalooza, the light illuminated their faces through the car and gave of a soft warm yellow glow that made Sam feel happy for a reason he couldn't place.  
Dean was furiously writing in the tiny notepad while Sam thought. Sam was trying to ignore the elephant of his thoughts about Dean. Everything in him was trying to appreciate what he had. Their first stop had gone so well. It had felt like no time at all had passed between them. At the same time, Dean was so different and Sam didn't know quite how to handle his brother being so different, yet the same at the same time.  
He was trying to treat it like he had Castiel. Meeting new people along the way was a part of road trips. At least, he assumed it was. The only people he had met when their dad had taken them around the country were in school. And that was only when Dean was still around. After Dean left Sam stopped talking to anyone but Bobby. But this was a proper road trip, not the shit their dad had done.  
The hours passed in that car. For a while they were traveling mostly north on 94. They wound up into Wisconsin before stopping for the night. They had left around 7, and Sam had driven until close to 2 in the morning, stopping every few hours to stretch or get food and soda at a gas station, mostly to keep himself awake as long as possible. This was going to be the longest part of the trip, being a 30 hour drive from Chicago to Seattle, and nothing interesting to visit in between. Dean had been too busy writing to bother Sam about his choice of music. They spent the ride in silence.  
“I don’t think I can drive any further tonight, Dean.” Sam turned to look at Dean, who was fast asleep in the passenger's seat. Sam thought briefly of the line from America ‘Cathy, I’m lost I said, though I knew she was sleeping. Michigan seems like a dream to me now’. He had driven 260 miles that night. There hadn't been any motel signs for miles. Sam pulled off the highway and onto what looked like an RV camp. It was 2am, so there wasn’t anyone around. Sam parked the car off to the side, half hidden from where all the actual campers were. It took Sam a few minutes to rearrange things in the backseat and pull out blankets from the trunk. While he was up he dumped out the bag of stuff from CVS into Dean’s duffel. Once he had done all of that he curled into a ball on the backseat, pulled his sleeping bag around himself and practically knocked out.

They woke up with the sunrise streaming through the windows. There was a thin layer of fog and mist around them, and it was significantly colder than Sam liked. It was about 6 in the morning.  
“Coffee?” Sam asked groggily. Dean grunted in return. The first stop Sam made along the highway was to a McDonald’s for some coffee, then a gas station. Dean cleaned himself while Sam bought snacks and then Dean filled up the car while Sam cleaned himself. Nothing was said about the fact that Dean smelt distinctly more like deodorant and like he had brushed his teeth. But Sam smiled to himself that his plan had worked.  
“What are you smiling about?” Dean  
“Mm nothing. Just happy to have the road ahead.” Sam bullshitted.   
Dean, picking up on the bullshit, shot back a line about his girlyness.  
While they were driving, Dean even took out the new notebook and started taking notes in it, and transferring things from the small one to the big one.  
Dean never said thank you, but he didn't need to. Sam knew that it was appreciated by he just took up using these things without a word. Sam assumed that if he didn’t want these things, he would have thrown them out. That thought made Sam very proud of himself. It made him feel like he might still know a part of his brother, and that maybe this could work after all. He’d just have to work at it.  
The thought that kept bothering Sam was that if this really was going to work, the dynamic between him and Dean needed to be different than it was three years ago. They couldn’t fall back into the unhealthy relationship they had. The reasons Dean left were much more than he didn’t trust Sam not to tell their dad about him and Crowley, and more than he was following Crowley because he loved him (however unhealthy that love was).   
Sam and Dean had both relied on each other to support the other. Neither of them were around a school long enough to make any friends, so they became horribly dependant on one another. The only example of family they had was from their father, and while some of the things he did they knew weren’t okay, they picked up on other actions. Sam didn’t realize the way they treated one another was manipulative at the time because he didn’t know what emotional manipulation was. But looking back it was clear that what had happened in the years leading up to Dean leaving was increasing unintentional abuse towards each other.   
It wasn’t just that, though. Because they still had an unhealthy dependency on one another. One thing they constantly shared was that if one of them died, the other would die too. They went to great lengths to keep each other alive, eating, and as functional as possible, most of the time in a very dysfunctional way.  
Dean walking out with Crowley was his way of escaping that in any way he could, and after a while, Sam came to understand that. Bobby had been kept in the dark about a lot of how they treated one another until Dean had left. At that point Sam told Bobby everything and Bobby had explained to him that they shouldn’t take example of anything from their father. Bobby’s explanation hadn’t satisfied Sam, and he continued to be conflicted over the whole thing for a while.  
It had taken Sam a long time to admit all of that for what it was, and it was something he needed to bring up with Dean, because for all Sam knew Dean still didn’t recognize most of that as unhealthy. And going back to that was not something Sam had any desire to do. Three years had gone by, both of them had changed. It made no sense to be reliant on each other when Sam was 18 and Dean was 22. They should have changed, they should have matured. ‘Should’ Sam assumed was the key word.  
Sam thought about this as he wound his way up through Wisconsin and Minnesota, driving northwest on 94. The road became four lanes and all around was mostly farmland. Sam knew he had to bring all of this up, but he didn’t want to scare Dean away when they were just getting to know each other again and Dean was just letting Sam back in.  
Sam cleared his throat and his grip on the wheel tightened as he ran over what he was preparing to say in his head. Dean looked up from what he was writing.  
“Umm.”  
“Spit it out, Sammy, I know what's coming.”  
Sam looked over at Dean, confused.  
“You're kicking me out now.” Out of everything he expected Dean to say, that wasn't it.  
“No, no not-”  
Dean cut him off. “No it's okay I was preparing myself for the time you would drop me on the side of the road.” Sam rolled his eyes, but noticed that Dean started putting things back in his bag. In an attempt to stop Dean and get his attention, Sam pulled Dean’s hands from his bag. Dean pushed his hands away angrily.  
“Dean would you stop and listen to me for a minute?” When Dean didn't say anything Sam continued. “I was going to say that we needed to talk about how we treated each other before you left, and how things need to change between us to move forward, and I do intend to go on with this trip with you.” Sam tried to finish before Dean could cut in.  
“I don't do feelings, Sam.”  
‘Don't push him away don't push him away don't push him away’ Sam repeated in his head. He took another deep breath.  
“We can't go back to the way we were before you left.” Sam said quietly, but fiercely.  
“And exactly what way was that?” Dean spat back bitterly, his arms crossed across his chest and his body slumped in the seat.  
“Dean you told me when I was 15 that the only reason you hadn't killed yourself was because someone needed to take care of me.” Dean's arms fell to his side, but he didn't say anything. Sam pressed on. “We took bits and pieces from how dad treated us and threw them at each other. I told you that no one would ever love you once when I was angry and you didn't speak to me for a week. That's not how two people should treat each other, let alone brothers.” Sam took a breath to gather his thoughts.   
“If this is going to work, which I want it to, Dean. With all my heart I want you in my life and for this trip to happen, and I would never kick you out to the street. But we can't go back to the way that was. It has to be different, and I am determined to make it different.”  
Dean nodded. “Ok” he whispered, his voice cracking. He coughed to cover it up.  
Sam guessed that was all he would get out of Dean on the matter. They needed to set boundaries, they needed to talk about what t. Sam needed Dean to ask about what his suggestion were. But Dean became closed off after that. Sam couldn't think of something useful to get any words out of him.  
A few miles and hours went by in silence. Around mile 100 for the first full day of driving they hit Minneapolis. Dean insisted they go into the city and find a record store so that Dean “wouldn't be forced to listen to this crap anymore” because he “just couldn't take it”. Sam could tell Dean enjoyed it at least a little bit, but he couldn't deny Dean the chance to own some music for a change.   
They found the closest record and CD store, and each picked out a few CDs. Sam bought the Avett Brothers album Emotionalism and Keaton Henson’s Birthdays.  
They bought lunch at a pancake house one of the cashiers at the store had recommended and then hit the road again.  
“I'm driving.” Dean commanded, and put out his hands for the keys.  
“Do you have a license?”  
“No one’s gonna pull us over, Samantha.” Dean smiled mischievously and motioned his hand for Sam to give him the keys. Sam just rolled his eyes and got into the driver’s side, ignoring Dean’s outstretched hand.  
They didn't speak much after the record store. Sam sat contemplating and replaying everything he had said, wondering if it was the right thing and if it did any good or pushed him away.  
Dean pulled out the CDs he had bought. Houses of the Holy was the first to go in, and Dean sat back to the familiar sounds of Led Zeppelin. Sam didn't say anything. He enjoyed the music and got into it as much as he could. It was certainly good music for driving down a highway on a beautiful summer day. The next CD they listened to was Blue Oyster Cult, Agents of Fortune. Sam just went with it all, letting the music wash over him as he had during Lollapalooza. He didn't say anything, just focused on driving and the landscape and the music. Nothing that had happened between him and Dean was allowed into his head for the rest of the day. It would be worked out, but not now. Patti Smith’s Horses was the next CD to play, followed by Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks. Tangled up in Blue was a song Sam knew really well, and hummed along when it came on.  
Dean stayed closed off the rest of the day. Sam would look over occasionally. Dean sat there looking out the window, his pen poised on the paper as if waiting for a good thought to come into his head so he could write it down. On the occasion that he had a thought he felt like writing, he would scribble it in his illegible writing and go back to dramatically looking at the window, watching the world roll by.  
At mile 549 they stopped for dinner at a diner that looked like it hadn't seen a customer in months. Nothing about it stood out, it was just an empty diner in the middle of Minnesota. Sam and Dean didn't speak to each other during the meal, except for Dean asking how much further they would drive that night. They agreed to drive just past the state line into North Dakota.  
They drove into the parking lot of a motel in Fargo, North Dakota for the night, but didn't bother going in and paying. They just slept in the car. The drive was almost 650 miles total from Chicago, and 400 that day. It was 9pm, and Sam was mentally exhausted. He crawled into the backseat and knocked out again.

It was the second full day of driving when Sam started to have the existential crisis that comes with the road. He wondered what he was doing, what he was looking for. He didn't have a home to go back to, and he had never felt at home with their father. Yet here he was, driving thousands of miles across the country, for what? To get to know his brother again? He couldn't place or figure out why he had decided to make the trip. He laughed to himself at the dramatic thoughts.  
It was also the day a thunderstorm woke them both up. The sunrise was beautiful shades of pink and blue and orange and purple, but thunder threatened them overhead.  
Once they drove out of the storm, Sam realized that the incredible thing about the drive through Minnesota and into North Dakota, and probably all of the middle part of the United States, was the openness. Everything around dropped off. You could look in all directions and everything around you would be flat. The sky went on forever and created a dome over you and wrote out everything you ever wanted. It felt to Sam as if he were driving over a wooden table for hours and hours and hours.  
Most of the day was spent in silence. Dean had taken out his CDs and put in Emotionalism. Sam smiled at that. It was an appreciated gesture, and Sam thanked Dean for it. Dean had grunted in return.  
Throughout the day Sam and Dean pointed out other things to each other on the road. Weirdly decorated cars or animal carts driving on the highway gave them a laugh. One farm they went by had teenagers cow-tipping. It was a nice change for them to talk to each other without getting angry at one another. Sam was grateful that Dean was able to make the things around them funny, because most of what was around them made the day a boring drive. When the novelty of seeing the entire sky wore off, there wasn't anything like the view of mountains or even really rocks to make it interesting.  
The road took them all the way through North Dakota and into the very beginning of Montana. All around everything was open and made Sam feel very small. The confusion of the day before was mostly forgotten, as Sam tried to comprehend the vastness of the land. The thoughts of the morning and the questions he tried to ask himself were forgotten as well.  
Dean and Sam would make up lives of people who lived out here, so far away from the rest of the world. They made up imaginary problems, soap opera lives that were completely unrealistic but sufficiently different from their own lives.  
“The McAllister’s live off of 94 in North Dakota.” Dean started. “The mother doesn't speak, she got too depressed after having children. The father takes his gun each day and shoots at air, thinking there are wild animals attacking the house.” Sam laughed at the image of their father shooting a shotgun into the air. “The older sister is a stoner, but so is everyone else in town. She has sex with the pastor’s son and makes herself look like a hooker because he likes it. The younger brother is too innocent to understand why when the pastor’s son died in a tractor accident, the sister started wearing all black and got her tongue and belly button pierced. But he gets made fun of in school for this one time that he farted when the room was quiet, and everyone in the room started laughing.” Sam burst out laughing at the lighthearted ending to a depressing story.  
“The father dresses up as a clown for local parties. It's the only entertainment around, so he comes to every single birthday party.” Sam cinged, thinking of the clown he beat up that had been performing in the street one day. He had a horrible fear of clowns. “He's a shitty clown, not funny at all.” Sam scoffed. “He hates his life a lot, but he makes good money and can support the family. The older brother died in combat between his family and another. The other family kept invading their land and stealing their crops because theirs were failing and they didn't have enough money to buy food.”  
“The mother worries too much and shakes constantly. Everyone holds their breath when she holds something because it threatens to slip out of her hand and break.” Sam thought back to the teacher he had for a few months in 6th grade, who had to have other people write on the board for her because her hands shook. “She is naive and doesn't know what her daughter does because she shelters her and the daughter lies. She doesn't realize her daughter slipped through her shaking hands. The daughter gets too annoyed with her. She does drugs and has sex and just wants freedom from a boring life where everyone knows her face. The older sister got out and moved on; it's just her now. The father is a boring man with a good sense of humor. No one understands what the mother and father saw in each other.”   
“How on earth do people live in such a boring place their entire life?” Sam scoffed, interrupting Dean, who was making fun of the owners of a farm that consisted of a tiny house and acres of cornfields.   
Dean cracked up at that. “That's a good ass question, Sammy.” Sam shook his head, smiling.

The day was uneventful. The pair began to know each other again as friends. After lunch Sam tried to figure out what he should do about what happened the day before. While sleep had resolved Dean’s feelings and allowed them to enjoy each other’s company again, Sam needed to work out how to best move forward in a healthy way. As soon as he had a thought like that though, Dean would mention something about the farm they were passing and Sam would forget his worry as they went back and forth narrating their imaginary life of the farm owner.

They stopped at night on the side of the road right inside of Montana. Around them was fields as far as the eye could see. There were no lights, and when Sam turned off the car he could barely see his own hand in front of him.  
It felt like a moment out of a movie. Sam sat on the hood of the car, Dean beside him. Dean had brought out his guitar and was softly strumming as Sam pointed out constellations.  
“That's Orion’s belt.” Sam pointed to the three stars. “They make up the most visible part of the constellation Orion.”  
“What’s the nerdy thing you have to tell me about him?” Dean teased.  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Orion fell in love after saving a land from monsters, but the father wouldn’t let them marry. He decided the way to get her was through violence. The dad took away his sight and banished him, so he followed the sound of the cyclops to where he had trapped the guy. The cyclops took pity on Orion and gave him a guild to the sun god, who restored his vision. He died at the hand of the second woman he loved, because her brother didn’t want them to marry.  
“She choose her brother over the guy?” Dean said, shocked. Sam ignored the sting he felt from that comment, knowing Dean would pretty much always choose his love interest over family. He focused back on Orion.  
“Well, no. Her brother tricked her into killing Orion when he was in the ocean. He told his sister she couldn’t hit the black thing in the sea. But she killed him, and the waves rolled him in and she placed him in the sky.” Sam finished. There was silence. Sam could feel Dean processing this.  
“How could she have hit him and killed him with such accuracy but not have seen who it was?” Sam rolled his eyes.  
“That’s not the point!” He said, mildly agitated.  
“Then what is the point?” Dean replied, obviously enthused by Sam’s agitation.  
“The point was to think through the decisions you make and not jump to conclusions like the brother and the girl did.”  
“Where in your ass was that answer hidden?”  
“The point of the myths was to provide lessons to people as well as tell stories. People truly believed if you were great enough the gods would put you in the sky.” Dean waved him off.  
“Ehh suit yourself.” He said grinning, and went back to strumming the guitar.  
“My favorite is the Lyre.” Sam breathed. “One of the brightest stars in the sky, Vega, is on the tip. Orpheus played this instrument and it was said to be the sweetest music of any mortal man.” Sam closed his eyes and imagined the words he had read swimming in front of him. “He fell in love but she was bitten by a snake and died. So he followed her into the underworld to get her back, and played the lyre to convince the gods to let him have her back. They agreed on the condition that he couldn't look at her until they were out of the underworld. Steps from the edge, Orpheus looked back in time to see her falling back down. Orpheus died of grief playing the lyre and the instrument was placed in the sky.”  
“Stupid reason to die.” Dean scoffed, still trying to make fun of Sam for his love of constellations.  
“I guess if you love someone enough you go crazy if you lose them.” Sam whispered. Dean’s grip on his guitar tightened. The simple strumming he had been doing stopped.  
“Do you think that’s what happened to dad?”  
The question caught Sam completely off guard. He turned his head towards Dean and thought for a second. “I don't know.” He answered after a bit. “It's definitely a possibility.”  
Dean seemed to relax at that, and began to strum again and started to sing Jack Johnson’s Constellations softly.

The light was leaving in the west it was blue children's laughter sang  
Skipping just like the stones they through  
Voices echoed across the way. It's getting late

Sam closed his eyes and listened to his brother’s voice. It was something he assumed he would never hear again, yet here they were. For all Sam knew, their dad was somewhere nearby working some job or another. He could be walking back into the motel room to see Sam wasn't there.

It was just another night with a sunset and a moonrise not so far behind  
To give us just enough light to lay down underneath the stars

Sam and Dean had never had a home. They'd never known what it felt like. They found home in one another; a comfort neither one of them could express. Sam didn't realize he had found home with Dean until suddenly Dean wasn't there anymore, and he had been lost for the years when Dean wasn't by his side.

Listen to papa’s translations of the stories across the sky  
We drew our own constellations.

Dean used to sing to Sam when they were little. Their dad would leave and Sam would have nightmares of the fire that he never remembered when he woke up. The only thing that would stay with him was the fear. So Dean would sing to calm him down. It was always simple, calming stuff like this.

The west winds often last too long the wind may calm down nothing ever feels the same  
Sheltered under the Kamani tree waiting for the passing rain

‘The constellations were always there’ Sam thought. No matter where you were in the world, the same constellations were always in the sky. That thought had kept Sam going some nights. Every place they had been to and everyone he knew, especially Dean, was looking at the same stars in the sky.

Clouds keep moving to uncover the scene stars above us chasing the day away  
To find the stories that we sometimes need. Listen close enough all else fades, fades away

Sam laid down next to Dean. He wasn't thinking anything really, but the thought that he was hearing his brother’s voice kept replaying in his head. He had to remind himself that it was real, because how could it be after being alone for so long?

It was just another night with a sunset and a moonrise not so far behind  
To give us just enough light to lay down underneath the stars  
Listen to all the translations of the stories across the sky  
We drew our own constellations

A tear ran down Sam’s cheek just as Dean was finishing the song.  
“Woah woah woah no….wh- no” Dean tried to say more but got flustered.  
“I just never thought I would hear your voice again.” Sam said shakily, swallowing back the lump in his throat. Crying wouldn't do much good. Dean was more flustered by that, and his hands slid off his guitar.  
Sam saw him take a breath and say, “No chick flick moments” and let out the biggest shit eating grin he could manage. But Sam saw how it never reached his eyes. Sam let his own mouth split into a grin and he rolled his eyes, laying back down on the hood of the car. He swatted at Dean and went back to naming stars and telling stories.

“How do you know all this constellations shit?” Dean asked.  
“I read a lot of Greek myth books when I was little. I got a bit obsessed.”  
“Oh yeah I remember finding the pile of library books hidden under you pillow in the motel.” Dean said, shaking his finger towards Sam.  
Sam shook his head. “Dad yelled at me for reading things that didn't have something to do with criminal justice. Wanted me to find out who killed mom, so I just instinctively hid them so he wouldn't find out.”  
Dean shook his head. “John Winchester’s A+ parenting.”  
“Yeah. No kidding.” Sam kept his head forward and avoided Dean’s eyes.

Sam had always loved constellations. They seemed to break apart the dark and the night. They were always there and every night when the darkness came in, there were always the same constellations in the sky. And just inside Montana there were no city lights, the stars stretched from one horizon to the other. Sam went to sleep with the comfort of the stars and moon giving enough light to see by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel comes back when they get to Seattle, don't worry :)


	8. Dean's Notes 2

6.27.03  
I had to transfer all my lyrics and writing into this new notebook that Sam got me. I appreciate it more than I can actually express to him.

I see the universe in the road stretching ahead of me. 

Before I left for Nashville, Sam and I were dependant on each other. He was all I had in my life and I poured my soul into it. Apparently I shouldn't have though, and I don't know why. Sam wants to make sure we do things differently, but I don't know how. And it makes me angry that he said things like that to me because I gave him everything I possibly could.  
I guess that isn't what you're supposed to do. Should I go to the other extreme? What is a healthy relationship? How does it happen? How am I supposed to treat my own brother if it's not giving him everything? Do I love him more than he loves me?  
I accidentally lashed out at the stupidest thing: his music. I insisted we go to a record store and buy new music, even though I love what he plays in the car. If I had a say we would listen to something different, but I still like his music. But I was so angry that I made sure we go out and buy my music. That's what we're listening to now. I want to take out the CD and smash it into a million pieces. 

In an instant our lives were different. The imbalance shook the foundations of the life I built, and now I don't know where to begin. 

Sail away with me and what will be will be. 

Sam isn't angry. He isn't mad. I don't know how he can do that. He's just taking everything I'm saying and going with it. I'm not used to this. It's been so long. 

Sam is asleep. Tangled up in Blue is playing through my head. 

I feel like I'm caught in some kind of cycle; a current I can't get out of, and it's frustrating because I don't know how. It's like I'm caught out in the middle of the ocean and no one decided to teach me how to swim. All I can do is float and hope someone sees me.  
And I think Sam did. And maybe Castiel, but I don't think I'll ever see him again. And Sam is trying to sort of drag me along, but I hold him back because I can't swim. 

Ugh I'm so fucking dramatic. Thank god this is a notebook and no one has to hear these shit lines. 

6.28.03  
Love writes a letter and sends it to hate - personified love and hate and finding home with each other 

Dark humor and stupid ways to die

The McAllister’s live off of 94 in North Dakota. The mother doesn't speak, she got too depressed after having children. The father takes his gun each day and shoots at air, thinking there are wild animals attacking the house. The older sister is a stoner, but so is everyone else in town. She has sex with the pastor’s son and makes herself look like a hooker because he likes it. The younger brother is too innocent to understand why when the pastor’s son died in a tractor accident, the sister started wearing all black and got her tongue and belly button pierced. But he gets made fun of in school for this one time that he farted when the room was quiet, and everyone in the room started laughing. 

The father dresses up as a clown for local parties. It's the only entertainment around, so he comes to every single birthday party. He's a shitty clown, not funny at all. He hates his life a lot, but he makes good money and can support the family. The older brother died in combat between his family and another. The other family kept invading their land and stealing their crops because theirs were failing and they didn't have enough money to buy food. 

The mother worries too much and shakes constantly. Everyone holds their breath when she holds something because it threatens to slip out of her hand and break. She is naive and doesn't know what her daughter does because she strangles her. She doesn't realize her daughter slipped out of her shaking hands. The daughter gets too annoyed with her. She does drugs and has sex and just wants freedom from a boring life where everyone knows her face. The older sister got out and moved on; it's just her now. The father is a boring man with a good sense of humor. No one understands what the mother and father saw in each other. 

Maybe I can make this into a song somehow. Silly road stories.

I feel like I can breathe here. The road is open and inviting, not closed off like it has been in the past. (Make metaphor out of open road?) too cheesy. 

I feel so comfortable, so in place. Tensions from yesterday seem gone. We don't really speak but we don't need to. 

I can't stop thinking about the openness. The sky feels like someone painted a bowl and stuck it over our car and as we move a new painted bowl is placed above us. 

We chase the sunset in our crappy car, trying desperately to find out why we here and alive and what on earth we were put on this world for if all we do is follow.  
We followed our dad I followed Crowley, Sam followed me, we are following the road now. Well no, Sam is following the road. I'm following Sam. There is something there that means something I just can't figure out what it is. 

Running from one falling star to another til I drop. (Kerouac)

We drew our own constellations - Sam and I drew our own life separate from the normal. We drew our own constellations from each other, finding normality in a life that tore each other apart. 

Sam never thought he would hear my voice again. He thought the last thing I would say to him was yelling at him. I can't even imagine.


	9. Chasing the Sunset in our Crappy Car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve been following this fic since I first started, please know that I did some serious editing and changed things around.

The next morning Sam woke up just in time to see the sun slip over the horizon. He sighed contently. Another day of driving and seeing new things.  
Driving into Montana was when the drive started to get more interesting. What had been an unbroken dome of sky in North Dakota was split open by jagged rocks on either side of the highway. On the brown ground green trees and white houses were planted in neighborhoods. They would go for miles with flat land only for it to be broken by sharp hills or rocks, then go back to flatlands. Everything had gone from green to tan and brown. The sky above them continued to be bright and clear. They had woken up to a thunderstorm, but all remnants of that were gone by mid-morning.  
They drove mostly in silence, broken only when one of them had to piss or when they were looking on signs on the side of the road for lunch. They got along and joked and Dean played some songs on guitar.  
Somewhere in Montana 94 turned into 90. They followed the Yellowstone River into the mountains and into Idaho. 90 was different from 94 in that miles of flatlands with the occasional sharp hill turned into sharp hills on either side for miles. The dome of sky was split more and more as they drove into the mountains on the border between Idaho and Montana.

The openness and their proximity to the mountains made for cold nights. They kept the heat on in the car as long as they thought they could, camped out in a parking lot of the diner they had eaten in. The drive was on mile 1,214 out of 2,000. Sam brought out blankets and sleeping bags from the trunk and they sat there for a while and talked about what they'd seen and done in Chicago.  
Dean pulled out the postcards he had bought to show to Sam. One was the Van Gogh bedroom piece, another was a monet haystack and the last was a Degas dancer.  
“Cas told us about these paintings.” Sam noted. Dean nodded.  
“Yeah. I don't know something about them resonated with me.” Dean’s voice was distant, like he was deep in tangled up thoughts trying to sort through and untangle them. “I loved the idea of a painter, who's supposed to be able to express what he sees in the world, going blind.” Sam nodded. This was a side of Dean he had never seen before and was unfamiliar to him. Dean seemed to snap out of it. He shifted in his seat. They both looked away and sat in silence for a little while longer.  
Dean broke out his guitar again. This time they didn't go sit on the roof of the car to look up at constellations. The night sky was too cloudy for that and it was far too cold outside. Dean’s voice was raspy and low singing softly.

Poison oak, some boyhood bravery.  
When a telephone was a tin can on a string.  
Well I fell asleep with you still talking to me.  
You said you weren't afraid to die.

Sam had never heard this song before. He wondered where Dean had heard it. He listened intently to the lyrics, noticing the poetry and emotion Dean sang them with.

In Polaroids you were dressed in women's clothes  
Were you made ashamed why'd you lock them in a drawer?  
Well I don't think that I've ever loved you more  
Than when you turned away, when you slammed the door,  
when you stole the car and drove towards Mexico  
When you wrote bad checks just to fill your arms  
I was young enough I still believed in war

Sam could feel the song as an ache in his chest. It was how he had felt when Dean had left with Crowley, or even after that when their dad ceased to believe in him. It described how he felt when he realized that he had relied on Dean, and now he had to fend for himself. Or when he realized that it was every man for himself.

Well let the poets cry themselves to sleep  
And all your tearful words will turn back into steam.  
But me I'm a single cell, on a serpent’s tongue  
And there's a muddy field where a garden was  
And I'm glad you got away, but I'm still stuck out here  
My clothes are soaking wet from your brothers tears.

The words made Sam speechless. The song was beautiful, no doubt, but Sam could tell that Dean meant every one of them.

And I never thought this life was possible  
You're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for  
The end of paralysis I was a statuette  
But now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench  
And when I press the keys it all gets reversed  
The sound of loneliness makes me happier.

A silence fell over the car when Dean finished. Sam’s thoughts were racing. It was unclear to him if that was a happy ending or not. It talked about the end of paralysis, which must be a good thing. Being able to move and do things again sounded good, but then the freedom had the speaker caught drunk and lonely.  
“Did you write that?” Sam croaked. He didn’t expect to hear his own voice, and it was quiet and distant.  
“Nah,” replied Dean “this band called Bright Eyes wrote it. But I always kind of identified with it.”  
“Where did you hear it?” Sam asked. The Dean he had known really only listened to what their father had played in the car. But this Dean knew much more music, and actually enjoyed it.  
“Nashville,” Dean said quietly. Sam could see slight discomfort but also a determination in Dean’s eyes to tell Sam, and Sam appreciated it. “A lot of bands come through there. Sure it’s mostly country, but there’s a lot that’s not. Bright Eyes performed at a tiny club, Jack Johnson played some coffee houses, some pretty big figures came into the stadiums. I got my hands on any music I possibly could and just sort of sucked it in.” Dean shrugged.

Sam felt he had figured out the secret of the road. Any problem they created was left sitting on the side of the road the minute they drove away. If you kept moving they never caught up with you. There was such a yearning to keep moving because if you did, reality was never something you would have to come face to face with. Sam felt that in Dean and in himself. He didn’t want to stop and think about what he was leaving behind.  
There was a feeling Sam had never experienced before that kept pulling at his shirt. He felt at home. There wasn't a physical house that they were going to or in, but him and Dean were building a home out of the rebuilt Honda Civic Bobby had given him. They didn't need a house, they were building their own. It made Sam think back to the line ‘we drew our own constellations’. Because that’s what they were doing. Sam fell asleep to Dean’s singing, and the thought that they might actually be okay.

The sun rose through the mountains the next morning. They continued along the Yellowstone River until the mountains started to climb around them. Sam had seen mountains before, but they never ceased to take his breath away every time.  
Passing Bozeman.  
Getting into Idaho the mountains became less rocky and became greener and full blown forests began to surround the road. The road began to climb higher and higher until the mountains surrounding them looked more like sharp hills.  
“Hey look, it's a titty.” Dean pointed to the mountain next to them and Sam cracked up at the observation. The road wound around it and another one came up.  
“Another titty.” Dean giggled like a schoolgirl and Sam shook his head, smiling. As he kept driving into the mountains they joked more and more about it.  
“Wait so it mountains are tities, are valleys ass cracks?” Sam asked between bouts of laughter.  
Dean nearly choked. “Yes!” He nodded his head violently.  
After a moment's pause, Dean added, “And volcanos can be dicks because they” Dean didn't even need to finish his sentence Sam was laughing so hard. It was clear to Sam now that this would be different than before. Their problems had been left in Nashville, and they were only moving forward. He wiped the laughing tears out of his eyes and continued driving.

“What do you want to do in Seattle?” Sam asked after a while of driving in silence. Dean looked up from the notebook he was writing in.  
“Eat. Sleep in a bed?” Dean offered. “I don't know.”  
Sam smiled. He didn’t know either.  
The mountains dropped off when they got out of Idaho. The drive across Washington became cloudy, and the green continued. The land flattened out again as they drove out of the mountains. The clouds seemed to stretch the entirety of Washington, and only really cleared up just as they got to Seattle.

They got to Seattle just before dinner and found a motel just outside of downtown, walking distance from a stretch of restaurants and shops. The motel front desk had pamphlets on tourist things to do in Seattle.  
“Really, Sam?” Dean said when Sam walked into their room reading it.  
“What?” He looked up innocently. Dean pointed to the pamphlet.  
“Do you have any better ideas of stuff to do?”  
“Yes it’s called walking downtown and ‘experiencing the city’” Dean turned his back to Sam and put him duffel on the far bed. “We’re NOT going to any of those tourist traps.” He insisted.  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine.” The pamphlet was left on the bed as they walked downtown for dinner.  
While walking around they passed a convention center with people dressed up in all sorts of insane costumes. A banner across the entrance read “Seattle Comic Con” along with a colorful logo.


	10. Dean's Notes 3

6.29.03

I didn’t take care of you like i was supposed to, and now you’re taking care of me and it’s all backwards

I memorized this song called Poison Oak in the hopes that I could sing it to Sam at one point. It's this really sad song about being left behind and it just makes me think of leaving him behind every time I hear it. 

Poison oak, some boyhood bravery. When a telephone was a tin can on a string. Well I fell asleep with you still talking to me. You said you weren't afraid to die.   
In Polaroids you were dressed in women's clothes. Were you made ashamed why'd you lock them in a drawer? Well I don't think that I've ever loved you more  
Than when you turned away, when you slammed the door, when you stole the car and drove towards Mexico. When you wrote bad checks just to fill your arms, I was young enough I still believed in war  
Well let the poets cry themselves to sleep and all your tearful words will turn back into steam.   
But me I'm a single cell, on a serpent’s tongue. And there's a muddy field where a garden was  
And I'm glad you got away, but I'm still stuck out here. My clothes are soaking wet from your brothers tears.   
And I never thought this life was possible  
You're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for  
The end of paralysis I was a statuette. But now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench and when I press the keys it all gets reversed. The sound of loneliness makes me happier. 

This song gives me a lot of inspiration. I want to create something that makes people feel as much as I do when I hear this song. I feel the longing for human contact like an ache. The ending...Crowley seemed to be my savior, and he got me away from John but he also forced me to leave Sam behind. And while getting away from John was the freedom I needed, I couldn’t handle it and became a fuck-up. Being lonely became what I convinced myself was happiness. And I’m starting to see that’s not right.

6.30.03  
The Road

my legs shake with each step I take  
unsure of where we’re going, unsure of how we’ll end

The road ahead twists to where I can’t see the end, but who am I to see where it goes? I’m not a hero, I’ve followed all my life.

going back to help?

I left behind remnants of a broken city that had befallen neglect and disarray.  
Soldiers came marching in to help  
The wore armor to not touch us, and their horses tore apart the last woodwork we had left. I could not stay there, but I am not a hero, a coward is what they call the man who flees the broken city on the twisting road.  
My legs shake with each step I take  
the trembling remnants of the earthquake I made

I followed the road until the air in my lungs gave

Along the path out of the broken city, the whole world looked paper mache  
Hollow and fake inside and out  
I felt like a bird in a cage  
living blind  
city ahead - night broken by lights

I see the universe in the road now - it’s all paper mache  
chasing a sunset that doesn’t exist  
drawing constellations in the dome above our heads

That city was my last home, the last thing that felt real - now everything looks like a scene out of the Truman show

Hollow to Full:  
I left behind remnants of a broken city that had befallen neglect and disarray  
Soldiers marched in to try and help wearing armor to not touch us,  
Their horses tore apart the last woodwork we had left  
I could not stay there, but I am no hero  
A coward is what they call the man who fled the broken city

My legs shake with each step I take, the trembling remnants of the earthquake I made  
I followed the road but I haven’t found where it led, so desperate was I to ignore what they said

I left behind remnants of a broken city and chased a sunset that didn't exist  
I saw the universe in the road then -   
It was all paper maché  
Everything felt like the Truman show  
A coward is what they call the man who fled the broken city

My legs shake with each step I take, the trembling remnants of the earthquake I made  
I followed the road but I haven’t found where it led, so desperate was I to ignore what they said

That city was the last home I had, now all I can do is follow the paper maché road  
Dried and cracking glue holding up my feet  
I knew this path had no end  
I want to follow my own road, create a new path  
We will draw new constellations, no more tracing old ones in the dome above our heads  
I feel real grass beneath my feet.


	11. Seattle Comic Con

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie time!

The convention center wasn't really in the center of downtown, but it was so close to their motel that they couldn't go anywhere without seeming totally out of place among the costumes. It was unlike anything Sam had ever seen before. Half of the costumes were characters he had never seen or heard of.  
People were milling about, and it seemed the majority of the day had finished. Sam had heard about big fan conventions before. Popular actors gathered together and signed stuff. What actors could be in Seattle in the middle of summer, Sam wondered.

He was so caught up in people watching that he lost Dean among the crowd. After a few frantic turns, Sam saw him hitting on a particularly attractive girl with red hair that was dressed as slave Leia from Star Wars.  
Sam walked over just in time for her to tell him “I'm gay, asshole.” And Sam burst out laughing. Dean whipped around as Sam mocked him.  
“Sorry, Leia.” Dean flicked Sam off as he turned back to the girl, who was smiling at the whole scene. Sam saw Dean’s face had turned bright red with embarrassment.  
“Charlie.” She corrected, sticking out her hand.  
“Dean. That's my brother Sam.” Dean pointed to Sam (who was still laughing) while shaking her hand. “Let me make it up to you by letting Sam buy you dinner.” Charlie looked skeptically at Dean, and then to Sam.  
“How do I know you're not some crazy psycho hell bent on kidnapping me?” Charlie asked, her eyes narrowed.  
“I swear on the knowledge that Han Solo shot first.” Dean replied and Charlie laughed. “I’m only trying to make up for hitting on you.”  
“Well, my date stood me up anyway.” Charlie led them to a restaurant far enough away from the convention center to not be overrun with people in costumes.

“So tell me, Charlie, how does an amazing person like you get stood up?” Dean asked when they had been seated and handed menus.  
“I like to think I was just too gorgeous and made her go blind.” She winked. Dean shook his head and looked down to scan the menu. “It’s not like she was even that great. She made me change my cosplay last minute.”  
Dean and Sam looked at her like she had grown a second head. Charlie rolled her eyes.  
“Cosplay, costume, dress up.” She motioned to the slave Leia costume she had on. The boys nodded their understanding. “She wanted me to dress up in this, even though I’ve had an Arwen costume ready for months. I’m pretty sure she just wanted an excuse to check out this fine bod.”  
A young waitress came to take their drink orders. She wore too much makeup that made Sam think of the popular high school girls that seemed to think that an inch of powder made them look better.  
Everyone ordered and Charlie and Dean instantly hit it off talking about music and TV shows and Charlie explaining the convention scene, and trying to convince Dean that it was fun. Sam felt slightly distant from their conversation. This wasn’t because he wasn’t paying attention, he was just listening. Thoughts about their drive here swam through his mind. At some point the waitress had come back and given them their drinks and taken their orders for food.  
“So Sam,” Charlie said, turning to face Sam after a lull in her and Dean’s conversation, “Tell me about yourself.” Sam stopped sipping from his drink and stared at Charlie like a deer caught in headlights.  
After a few awkward seconds and scattered thoughts of witty says to respond failing, Sam lamely asked “What do you want to know?”  
“What brings you to Seattle?” Dean looked over at Sam, but Sam couldn’t read the expression on his older brother’s face.  
“Road trip around the country.” Sam answered her question. It felt small compared to the conversation she and Dean had been having before. It was difficult for Sam to place why he felt the way he did. There was a slight ache in him, possibly from the drive but also from a loneliness he couldn’t identify.  
“That’s so cool!” Charlie’s comment broke Sam’s thoughts. “Where have you gone so far?”  
“Just Chicago. We’re going around in a circle.” Sam motioned the shape of the country with his finger.  
“Met any cool people, Dean Moriarty?” The boys gave her a questioning look again. She rolled her eyes yet again. “On The Road. Dean Moriarty and Sal Paradise go on four cross country road trips. Incredible book.” She shook her head, taking a sip of her soda.  
“Never heard of it.” Dean waved his hand as if he was whisking away the reference. “But we have met some pretty cool people.” And just like that, Sam was back out of the focus of conversation, Dean taking over to give an intricate description of Cas and the time the three of them had spent in Chicago.  
Their food came and the conversation moved back to conventions. The Seattle Comic Con was going on that weekend and Charlie and her date, Gilda, had traveled from Portland, Oregon to meet celebrities and dress up.  
“It definitely looks like fun.” Sam agreed, speaking up.  
Charlie took a sip of her coke. “Mm, you guys should come!”  
“I don’t know if we have the money for it -” Sam didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Charlie cut him off.  
“I can pay for you!”  
Sam shifted uncomfortably. “We couldn’t ask you to do that, Charlie.”  
Charlie waved her hand. “Pshhh it’s no trouble. My family was hella rich, inherited a shit ton of money. I’m basically batman.” She shrugged and lowered her voice to mimic batman. “Without the whole bruting tough guy shit.”  
“Hey, no trash talking Batman.” Dean pointed his finger at her. Charlie held up her hands in defeat.  
“I can totally shout you guys, under one condition.”  
“Name it” Dean said right away. Sam nodded along.  
“Help me get back at that bitch for standing me up.” Charlie’s eyes sparkled mischievously.  
“I have the perfect idea” Dean said, mirroring the look of Charlie.  
They finished up eating and figured out exactly the best way to get back at Gilda.  
When the check came, Charlie refused to let them pay. “Oh please, money’s no problem.” She said, waving their hands away from the check.  
Her jaw dropped when she saw the phone number written in small print on the bottom. She turned the check to face the boys.  
“Check out what the hottie scored.” Charlie whispered, self congratulatory. Dean wasn’t so sure it was meant for Charlie, insisting that he was clearly the more attractive of the people here. He managed to sneak in the fact that Sam was a sasquatch while insisting the number was for him. A friendly argument ensued over who the number was really for until the waitress came back to get the money. At that point Charlie flat out asked the poor girl, whose face turned bright red as she cautiously pointed her finger at Sam. As she hurried away, Charlie howled with laughter and Sam’s face also blushed furiously.

After they had finished dinner, Charlie led them all to the hotel her and Gilda were sharing for the weekend. They had schemed all through dinner but agreed that if Gilda was there when they got there, Charlie would get her stuff and go instead of performing their brilliant plan. Charlie was convinced she would be at a concert the convention was holding with the guests because that had been their plan for the night.  
They were fortunate that the room was empty when Charlie and the boys got there.  
Charlie packed up all her stuff quickly and went to get supplies while Sam and Dean started to prepare things. She came back with two 100 packs of plastic cups and a thing of vodka.  
“I thought it might calm the nerves.” She smiled nervously.  
“Whose nerves?” Dean scoffed.  
The three of them set up a system. A path was cleared to the bathroom, and Dean was on filling up the cups with water. Sam was taking them from Dean and setting them down. Charlie was keeping watch, pacing back and forth, and taking shots of vodka and occasionally spiking the drinks Sam carried (for a reason Sam could not identify). Not one inch of Gilda’s room was going to be left uncovered.  
It was close to 1am when they finished. Gilda wasn’t back, there was negative vodka left and barely enough room for Dean to jump out of the room without spilling shit. They left in a frenzy of laughter and slight drunkenness. It was time to go back to their own motel for the night, and prepare for a convention the next day.

It was Friday, the first official day of the convention. Charlie declared that the boy’s outfits simply wouldn’t do, and insisted on buying them nerdy shirts the second they got there. The problem she was having (that was making them late) was her inability to choose between her two cosplays.  
“Slave Leia or Arwen?” She asked for the upteenth time, holding them both up to her pjs.  
“Isn’t every guy a fan of slave Leia?” Dean teased. Charlie gave him a bitchface that made Dean laugh. She settled on her Arwen costume, mostly because it was incredible and would have been a shame for the costume to go to waste. Charlie had sewn in beads and crystals that made the dress shimmer in the sunlight. People throughout the day didn’t quite understand the costume, which Sam thought was a shame.  
Charlie was very vocal about how she was most excited about the Nathan Fillion panel, because Firefly had just finished and everyone was angry about the show being canceled. Both Sam and Dean had never even heard of the show.  
Charlie gasped and jumped back when that information had been exchanged. “What do you mean you’ve never heard of it?” Charlie asked, appalled.  
“It means the name has never graced our ears, and is therefore probably not all that cool.” Dean smirked.  
After the Nathan Fillion panel, Charlie dragged them to the Charmed panel with Holly Marie Combs, Alyssa Milano, and Rose McGowan.  
“It’s such a girly show” Dean protested as Charlie grabbed his arm and pulled.  
“What are you talking about you used to watch that show all the time.” Sam cut in, knowing Dean’s face would go bright red. When it did, Charlie laughed.  
“See, be happy I knew you’d secretly love it.” She pointed her finger disapprovingly at Dean covering up his love for the ‘girly show’. Dean gave in and they went to stand in line for the panel. They were the only guys in line, but Dean didn’t seem to care. Him and Charlie had gone off talking about theories of Charmed and topics of that nature, that Sam barely understood.

Sam didn’t get a chance to see the panel though. Right as they were going in he got a phone call. Caller ID showed the caller to be Novak, Castiel.  
“Hey Ca-” Sam was cut off by Castiel.  
“Can I meet you in Seattle?”  
“Well, yeah.” Sam said. He had no problem with the idea. “Sure I guess.” He paused before blurting, “how would you get here?” as an afterthought.  
“I’m sort of already in the Seattle airport.”  
Taken aback but not all that surprised, Sam gave Cas the address of their motel and informed him that they were at the convention and wouldn’t be back until late.  
It was weird, and the idea that Castiel might be some kind of murderer getting ready to maim him and Dean (or some other horror story action) flashed through Sam’s mind. Despite all that, Sam trusted Castiel. He seemed like a nice enough person in need of getting away from an overbearing family. It occurred to Sam that he knew the feeling, and he relaxed some.  
Realizing there was no way Sam could get back to his place in line or potential seat, he decided to use the time to call Uncle Bobby. He informed him of the previous night’s events and of Castiel coming to meet them.  
“Just be careful of him, don’t want Dean or you getting hurt.” Bobby said, and went into a coughing fit.  
“You okay?” Sam asked when it sounded like Bobby had recovered.  
“Yeah, course. Just got a cough. Nothin to worry ‘bout.” The man replied, his voice hoarse.  
They talked for a while longer about plans and money and general fatherly talk before the panel ended, Dean and Charlie came out, and Sam hung up.  
“What was that about?” Dean asked Sam.  
“Bobby just called.” Sam only half lied. He wanted Castiel to be a surprise.

Dean and Charlie seemed to connect on some next level of nerdiness. They had seen all of the same things and got very excited about it in different ways. Charlie would start bouncing up and down and overflowing with excitement, generally about something she noticed that only hardcore fans would ever see. Dean was more serious about it. It was a sort of silent all-knowingness. He kept a straight face through their talks, but often seemed to offer knowledge Charlie didn’t have. When that situation occurred, Charlie jumped around and flailed even more. It was a sight that Sam enjoyed. Sam thought it must be nice to be able to be so unapologetically excited about the world.  
These were his thoughts as they found their seats for the last panel. It was a panel with Ewan McGregor, Jake Lloyd, and Liam Neeson. The new Star Wars movies were in the process of coming out, so it was a big deal to have them here. A lot of the people in the audience were in stormtrooper suits. Charlie was jumping up and down and trying to walk at the same time (Sam was sure at some point she would trip if she continued on like that) and holding Dean’s arm to the point where it looked almost painful.  
All of the stars were such huge fans of Star Wars, and everyone kept it nice despite the elephant in the room of the newest movie being a letdown to fans. Dean whispered this to Sam at the beginning of the panel, just as he had explained when they would watch movies when they were little.  
Sam couldn’t do anything except laugh in wonder at a side of his brother he hadn’t seen in years. It was so comforting to know it was still there. The two of them had watched all the original Star Wars together. Dean had stolen them from a Blockbuster video when they were young so that Sam could watch more than kid cartoons on the motel TVs. After that they got different movies each place they went.  
They watched a lot of movies that way throughout the years. After Star Wars they went through all of the Star Treks. Sam took to the Star Trek movies while Dean had become attached to the Star Wars. Sam just loved the idea of exploring everything there was in the universe like Captain Kirk.  
They watched dozens of movies, though. Monty Python and the Holy Grail, The Princess Bride, Ghostbusters, Back to the Future, Indiana Jones and Blade Runner (Dean had gone on a Harrison Ford kick) were some of the many movies that made it onto their ever-growing list. The movies gave them something more to talk about and to do.  
Sam had been so caught up daydreaming that the panel ended without him even realizing it.  
Dean, Charlie, and Sam went outside of the panel area and found themselves in the art hall. An agreement was made to not go to any more panels and look through all the artists that were there, as well as the comic guests.  
They bought some autographs and too much art for living out of a car with no place to actually put art, but Charlie insisted it was necessary for their first conventions. Eventually the second day of the convention ended, and they all walked back to the motel. Sam had forgotten all about the phone conversation earlier that day, so he was just as surprised as Dean to see Cas standing there in a long tan trench coat, a backpack slung across one shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this convention didn’t happen this way in 2003. There were no media guests and turnout was less than 3,000. But this isn’t reality. I can make up my own guests if I want to.


	12. Dean's Notes 4

7.1.03  
We met the most wonderful person today named Charlie. I didn’t have a lot of time to write because we were up. Played a prank on her date Gilda for standing her up. Not sure how anyone in their right mind could stand up someone so incredible.  
Anyways, after that we came back and went to Seattle Comic con...which was nerdy and I hate to admit how much I fucking loved it.

Then we came back and Cas was standing there in front of the motel door, trench coat around him and backpack across his back, looking like hell. He said he’d flown that day. Apparently after Lollapalooza things just fell apart. I don’t know what kind of security he’s hoping to find in the dysfunctional mess that is me and Sam but I’m willing to offer our car as a home.

I didn’t have all that much to say today, but I didn’t want to forget this moment. I don’t have shitty poetry today, nothing deep or meaningful. I just had a good day and don’t want to forget it. I want to have it always to treasure when I need it.

Ugh listen to me I’ve turned into an emotional fuck.


	13. The Coming of Dean Moriarty

“Is this the boyfriend?” Charlie asked, breaking the silence of Dean and Cas staring at each other. Dean’s face had been etched in confusion now turned bright red at the comment, and Castiel looked down at his shoes.   
“I need a drink” Dean mumbled. 

The four of them walked into the motel and Cas put his backpack on a bed. They all sat around a table in the front of the room, and Dean pulled out four beers for all of them.   
“What brings you out here, Cas?” Dean asked. Castiel hadn’t looked up from his shoes since he got here.  
Quietly he responded that Sam had told him he could.  
“I can go back if you want.” Sam cringed at the insecurity he knew so well and had felt before.  
“Cas, that’s not what I meant. Tell him what you told me on the phone earlier.” Sam ignored the questioning look from Dean.  
Castiel took a long breath, as if preparing himself. “Home just got to be too much. After Lollapalooza Michael came home from college with no job and no where to live. I thought it might be okay, but...it was hell. I couldn’t be there...I just couldn’t. I only lasted a couple of days until Michael threw something at me and I packed a bag and ran.” Castiel pulled up the sleeve of the trench coat to reveal a large bruise and scratch going up his arm. “Home isn’t home if you’re not safe in it.”  
“Jesus, Cas.” Dean said, taking Castiel’s arm and checking the scratch.

Sam noticed that Charlie had been standing by the door quietly. Sam motioned her to come over.  
“I’ve heard so much about the dreamy-eyed Castiel” She said, reaching in for a hug. Cas seemed completely taken off guard, but after a bit hugged her back.  
“Thanks…”  
“Charlie.”  
“Thanks, Charlie.” Charlie smiled and nodded, satisfied with the introduction. Castiel looked over at Dean, his expression asking how they knew this girl.  
“We met Charlie last night after Dean unsuccessfully hit on her” Sam joked. Castiel smiled and looked down.

Somehow they got to a bar. Dean had probably led them there. Dean and Charlie bought them all drinks.

The bar played wonderful classic rock music that they all knew. Charlie proved to love to sing obnoxiously when she was drunk. The impersonation of the singers she did was the funniest part, and made the group laugh.  
The music got slower suddenly, and Behind Blue Eyes by the Who came on.

No one knows what it’s like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man. Behind blue eyes.

“Dance with me, blue eyes.” Dean held out his hand to Cas. Sam rolled his eyes at the cheesiness, but if Dean saw he didn’t let it show.

But my dreams, they aren’t as empty as my conscious seems to be. I have hours only lonely. My love is vengeance, that’s never free.

Sam leaned against the bar, watching Dean slowdance with Cas. Their foreheads were touching and they seemed to be whispering to each other.  
“I’ve never seen Dean like this.” Sam noted to Charlie. She looked over to him and gave him a questioning look.  
“Just.. Dean’s a mystery to me for the most part. Every time I feel like I know him again, something pops up that I don’t understand”. Sam stared into his drink and swished it around. Charlie had bought another for him.   
“You boys are too dramatic.” Sam looked at her incredulously and she rolled her eyes. Charlie took a sip of her drink. “You’re overthinking it.”  
“Well, yeah. I know that.”

No one knows what it’s like to feel these feelings, like I do. And I blame you.

“I just...I really want to figure out what it is I’m doing with this whole thing.” Sam didn’t really know where he was going, it just had been so long since anyone really cared for what he had to say that he was running with it.  
“What do you mean?”   
Sam sighed, not really having the thought fully formed. “So, the reason I wanted this whole trip was because I wanted to see the downtown of a city when I was 8 years old.” Sam paused to collect his thoughts. “Our dad never really took us anywhere but bumfuck nowhere.” Thoughts swirled around in Sam’s head and he tried to make sense of them. “But now I sort of feel like all I’m doing is running away from something.”  
“Well, yeah. Isn’t that the entire point of a road trip?” 

No one bites back as hard on their anger. None of my pain and woe can show through.

Sam scoffed. “I guess I’m just trying to find the balance of running and actually experiencing.”  
“Again, dramatic.” Charlie called him out.  
This time Sam full out laughed. “I’ve been stuck in my head for three years, what else did you expect?”   
Charlie tilted her head in acceptance to his point. “Why were you alone?”

But my dreams, they aren’t as empty as my conscience seems to be.

Sam paused and looked to the bottom of his empty glass. “Dean ran off with a dick named Crowley, and my dad...I guess to him Dean stopped existing the second he left.” Sam looked up then, into Charlie’s sympathetic eyes.  
“You boys have been through a lot, haven’t you.”  
Sam nodded. “I spent three years trying to figure out how to get on. Then when I started being around people again...well I realized how much I don’t know how to function.” Sam laughed at his own stupidity.

I have hours, only lonely. My love is vengeance that’s never free.

“That’s more your dad’s fault than yours.”  
“My dad was a dick but he did his best.”  
“You realize that him ‘doing his best’ doesn’t excuse how he treated the two of you.” Sam weighed that.

When my fist clenches, crack it open before I use it and lose my cool. When I smile, tell me some bad news before I laugh and act like a fool.  
If I swallow anything evil, put your finger down my throat. If I shiver, please give me a blanket. Keep me warm, let me wear your coat.

Charlie bobbed her head to the picked up pace. After a moment she paused and asked, “What’s something you always enjoyed but never really got a chance to do before?”  
Sam thought that over. “I always really liked reading and writing but I had to be discreet about it or I would get in trouble.”  
Charlie reached in her bag and pulled a book out. She held it out to Sam but as he reached for it she pulled it away. “This is my favorite book, and I will let you read and borrow it on one condition.” Charlie’s eyes glittered mischievously.   
“Name it.”  
“You have to mark your favorite parts and annotate the book as much or as little as you see fit.”   
“You just happen to always keep this book with you?” Sam teased.   
Charlie opened up her bag again to reveal a few other books, including the Hobbit and one Sam had never heard of. In the bag was also a notebook, cosplay makeup, and various other useful items.  
“I keep many useful things in my magic Mary Poppins bag.” Sam shook his head, thinking how heavy that bag must be.   
“Now, do you promise to annotate the book?” Charlie interjected.  
Sam held up his hands in defeat. “Sorry. Yes. I promise.” She handed him the book, and Sam flipped through it. It was clear she had lent this book to a lot of people. The book was marked up in parts to the point where it was almost not legible.  
He opened the book to the first page and laughed. “The main character’s name is Dean?”  
Charlie smiled. “Yeah.”  
“Do you have a pen?” Sam asked. After a bit of shuffling around in the Mary Poppins bag, Charlie pulled out a pen and handed it to Sam.   
Right away he underlined the first few sentences, unaware that Charlie had left to the dance floor, taking Dean away from Cas.  
‘I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up. I had just gotten over a serious illness that I won't bother to talk about, except that it had something to do with the miserably weary split-up and my feeling that everything was dead. With the coming of Dean Moriarty began the part of my life you could call my life on the road.’   
Sam smiled at the thought of a random guy named Dean waltzing into his life. 

They stayed at the bar for hours, dancing and laughing and having fun. When they went back to the motel, Charlie insisted they play games like truth or dare and never have I ever. None of the boys dared say no to her. Sam spent the night mostly reading On the Road. Whenever Dean caught Sam reading, he’d throw a pillow and shout “NERD!” at Sam until he put the book down.  
By the time they were going to bed, they had watched the sunrise together. They went to the roof of the motel in the early morning air.  
“Only a few hours left before I leave.” Charlie said, shivering against the cold. Dean was furiously writing away in his notebook, and Sam was reading. He looked up at the sunrise.  
“The great red sun showed them it was time to move on to the next town.” Charlie put her head on Sam’s shoulder.   
“Time to go back to life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this is based on On the Road by Jack Kerouac. For those of you who don't know the book, it's incredible. It's about two guys, Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty, who go on four cross country road trips. Eric Kripke based the idea of Supernatural on these characters and the feel of this book.   
> In Swan Song, when Chuck is talking about the impala, he mentions the previous owner of the car is a man by the name of Sal Moriarty. This is a nod to On the Road.
> 
> This whole story takes the ideas and writing style of that and tries to make more of my own story of Sam and Dean.


	14. Dean's Notes 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can listen to this song on youtube. To listen, use this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-dERz7qnNA  
> I wrote this song a few months back as a response to dealing with a sexual assault. It happened to work really well with this fic. All of the lyrics in the ‘dean’s notes’ chapters are lyrics I’ve written and may or may not have put to music.

7.2.03  
Castiel is so heartbroken. His brother hurt him so badly… At the bar we went to they played Behind Blue Eyes...and I looked into his eyes and felt so much sadness there. I did the really stupid movie move and said ‘dance with me, blue eyes.’  
Sam rolled his eyes, but I got to slow dance with Cas. We talked about all sorts of things. He held his forehead against mine and I told him about my music. He told me childhood stories and I told him embarrassing stories about Sam. We only had the one song before Charlie came in to take me from Cas and her and I danced.  
I didn’t ask him to dance because I liked him...because...I feel like I haven’t gotten over Crowley. I need to drown in a bit more self deprecation before I’m over that. But Cas...  
I don’t know yet. I’m trying to let it happen instead of thinking too much.  
Charlie started the dancing. She was so silly that night.

7.3.03  
We are watching the sunrise on the roof of our motel.

Lie your head down to rest, tie a ribbon round your neck  
Don’t do anything til I say it’s safe to come out to play

Lie your head down to rest, tie a ribbon round your neck  
Don’t do anything til I say it’s safe to live another day

I can no longer rest cuz you slipped a ribbon round my neck  
And you won’t let me try to say, it’s safe to live another day

The dust on the ground holds a pattern I can’t see  
There must be a reason all the leaves fell off the tree  
The painter’s brushes all ran dry, there’s nothing left to try  
So I’ll hold on while the boat it starts to sink.

Tree -- get’s cold -- leaves fall -- leaves turn to dust -- garden turns to a muddy field.  
Muddy field- new things can grow  
Once I was an oak tree  
Slowly the air turned cold, the wind harsh.  
A purple ribbon tied around my branches as the world moved round on its tilt The air got cold and the leaves started to wilt  
Cries in - Air - Wilt - Tilt - Yield  
Once I was an old oak tree, tall and strong and fair  
But not all could be well; winter was in the air  
The golden sun sunk under the dark horizon  
The world slowly turned into a place the wind cries in

Slower still the leaves turned dust to dust  
They crumpled and shriveled as we all must  
The garden turned barren and the cold made it wilt  
While the earth turned round itself on its tilt

Where once there was a garden now stands a muddy field  
The snowfall this year left no plants to yield  
The broken old oak has died and gone away  
But in it’s place new things can see another day.

Dust:  
Lay your head down to rest, tie a ribbon round your neck  
Don’t do anything until I say It’s safe to come out to play.

Once I was an oak tree, tall and strong and fair  
But not all could be well, winter was in the air  
The garden sun sunk down under the dark horizon  
And the world slowly turned into a place the wind cries in

Lay your head down to rest, tie a ribbon round your neck  
Don’t do anything until I say it’s safe to live another day

The dust on the ground holds a pattern that I can’t see  
There must be a reason all the leaves fell off the tree  
The painter’s brushes all ran dry, there’s nothing left to try  
So I’ll hold on while the boat it starts to sink

Slower the leaves they turned dust to dust  
They crumpled and shriveled as we all must  
The garden turned barren and the cold made it wilt  
While the earth turned round itself on its tilt

I can no longer rest cuz you slipped a ribbon round my neck  
And you won’t let me try to say it’s safe to live another day

The dust on the ground holds a pattern that I can’t see  
There must be a reason all the leaves fell off the tree  
The painter’s brushes all ran dry, there’s nothing left to try  
So I’ll hold on while the boat it starts to sink

Where once was a garden now stands a muddy field  
The snowfall this year left no plants to yield  
The broken old oak has died and gone away  
And in it’s place new things can see another day

 

I didn’t know I had those lyrics in me... It’s about Crowley. I wrote it as my own way to try and get over it and move past it. The verses go through me, as an oak tree, and the winter coming in and causing leaves to fall and turn to dust, and eventually kill the oak tree.  
The winter was Crowley. He came into my life and poisoned me, slowly. The chorus talks about not being able to recognize the pattern or the reason for everything happening. That’s something I can’t wrap my damn head around. Why anyone would be so cruel. How could someone hurt another person so deeply and not know it?  
Then finally the pre-chorus, about tying a ribbon around my neck, is about how I was trapped by what he did, and everything it caused that I’m not having to deal with.  
I feel melodramatic for saying all of this but hey you’re a notebook, you can’t judge. And I’m so proud of this song… I can’t even begin to describe it.


	15. Road Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> assault trigger warning.  
> Also I’ve realized too late that many of the songs I’ve included weren’t actually written by this time but thats fine lol.

After watching the sunrise, the world seemed a bit surreal to Sam. Everything had an early morning tinge that smelled like stale beer mixed with dew on grass, depending on the step you took.  
The three boys of them drove Charlie to the bus station. It was an emotional goodbye because in such a short time they had grown so close. Sam was learning that road trip friendships were short lived, even if you kept in touch for years. They got some stranger to take a picture of the whole group with Sam’s disposable camera.   
“Peace out bitches.” Charlie held up the Star Trek ‘live long and prosper’ sign. Sam smiled and waved with Dean. Cas ran up and hugged her one last time. The hug caught her off guard, but she settled into it. After a few seconds he let go and walked backward to stand next to Dean.  
“Have fun storming the castle!” Dean shouted back to her. She would be missed.

They packed up their stuff to hit the road to San Francisco, the next step in Sam’s road trip itinerary. With the three of them together in a long ride, a lot of stories started emerging. Cas wanted to know about young Sam and Dean, and they wanted to hear about Cas. 

“We didn’t do fun things when our dad was around” Dean noted.   
“No, but when he wasn’t there we did things like the Loveland Fair” Sam pointed out. “Remember the penguin security guard?”  
Dean laughed so that is entire body tilted back. “Sam decided he wanted to go on this spinny ride”  
Sam cut in, “you know the rides where you stand up strapped in facing everyone else on the ride with your back to the circular wall and you just spin and tilt for like four minutes?”  
“Shuddup Sammy it’s the spinny ride.” Dean teased. “Anyway Sam here HAD to go on it but he was too short and the person doing the rides wouldn’t let him on.”  
“So i had the brilliant idea to win one of the giant carnival toys and stand on it the entire time.”  
“Because clearly that would’ve made you taller” Dean injected.   
“Oh of course” Sam nodded. “But we didn’t have any money for carnival games to win one because all of our money went just to getting into the fair or food or something.”  
“It was the three foot long hot dog.” Dean pointed out.  
“Oh yea!” Sam laughed again. “Anyway, I basically decided I needed the giant teddy bear to stand on in the spin ride and be tall enough or the world would end.”  
“So I, being the wonderful older brother that I am with no money, tried to steal it for him.” Castiel’s jaw dropped.  
“In retrospect I don’t know why we thought you could get away considering it’s a four foot tall teddy bear and isn’t exactly discreet” Sam reflected.  
Dean tilted his head back to laugh again. “We got spotted by the security guard and he basically chased us off the property!”  
“But he was clearly out of shape because he ran in a way that looked like a penguin trying to chase us!”   
Cas’s laugh was a quiet giggle at the image of the two of them running away from the fair security.  
After a brief pause, Cas spoke. “I can’t imagine Sam having an issue being too short” Cas said thoughtfully.  
Sam laughed. “Yea my growth spurt came a bit late.”

Sam talked a bit about school, but he strategically stopped right before Dean left. That wasn’t something he was ready to dive into and share. He did share stories about bullies that hurt then but seemed funny to look back on.  
“Remember those dicks when we lived in Missouri who liked to shove my books and call me a freak?” Sam asked to Dean, who nodded. “Dean told me to go up to those assholes, look them in the eye and tell them that Santa wasn’t real” Sam laughed.   
“It definitely would’ve worked” Dean huffed.  
“Except we were in 8th grade and everyone already KNEW THAT”   
“You didn’t” Dean turned to face Cas. “That’s how Sammy here learned the truth about Santa.”  
“Oh yea because your dress up every year at Christmas was convincing”  
Dean looked incredulously at Sam. “You…”  
“Of course I knew it was you, Dean. I just liked to see you make a fool of yourself and dress up every year.” Sam smiled like an idiot and Dean swat at him.  
Cas sat in the back of the car laughing at the two of them.

The best stories were from Cas, though. He seemed to get lost in what he was saying, just like in Chicago. He’d close his eyes - Sam imagined it was to block out as much other senses as possible.  
He told a story about Gabriel from when they were in middle school. Gabriel had been in the school musical Oliver Twist as Oliver and had to miss church services every week for a few months. That alone would have been bad enough for their parents, but musical theater was the devil’s work. Sam wondered how they could name a child Lucifer and still be worried about the devil’s work, but didn’t ask. Gabriel had lied for months about why he had to miss the services, and worked his ass off for the production. Their parents had almost thrown a fit when they found out, and demanded he pull out. He did, but not before the production they did in front of the student body. Knowing it would be his last and only show, he planned this elaborate prank that involved balloons that were made out of condoms that were filled with watered down porridge, and ended with him being suspended from school. Cas was pretty sure the drama teacher had helped, but he never found out.   
“I wasn’t actually a student there when it happened, I just heard the stories from other students and Gabriel himself” Cas finished. “The story actually got banned from being told at school due to inappropriate content.”

Sam and Dean were speechless at the idea of the drunk nut they’d met (the ‘normal’ one, according to Cas) pulling off something like that. Cas smiled smugly, thinking he’d told a good story for the pair.

Sam told a story after that.  
“When Dean was eight he tried to convince me flight was possible. I had all these dreams where I would fly and after one I woke up and told him about it. I don’t remember the exact dream by now, I had so many of them and they slowly stopped. But anyway I told Dean and he said it was a premonition from another word that I should try and actually fly, because I’d be able to.”“I didn’t think you’d believe me!” Dean said defensively.  
“I ended up with a broken arm.” Sam laughed.

“I had those dreams when I was younger too.” Cas said quietly. “But only after good days. I had them less and less as I got older.” Cas kept opening his mouth as if to say more, but then closing it and looking at his hands, then repeating the action.  
“Hey, Cas?” Castiel opened his eyes and looked at Dean, tears shining in them that he seemed to be fighting from spilling over. “You never have to tell us something if it’s too far for you, ok?” Cas nodded, but that seemed to give him the confidence to continue, but he never took his eyes off of a specific spot a foot in front of him.”  
“Michael…he used to have his friends over when I was young and he let them…do all of these things to me. I didn’t understand what they were doing, just that it hurt a lot. When they starting doing that my flying dreams stopped.” Castiel sounded very small and far away.  
“How old were you?” Sam asked. His own voice was hoarse, and talking felt thick.  
“I don’t remember, it’s all a blur together.” Castiel paused. “That’s why I couldn’t stay when he came back.”

“I thought…” Cas trailed off. Sam didn’t know what the end to that sentence could be, but he didn’t need to.   
Cas didn’t look at Sam or Dean for a long time after that. Sam wanted to tell Cas that is was ok, but he didn’t know how. 

In an attempt to break the silence, Dean spoke. “Sam always seemed to know when I missed our mom.” he began, “because no matter where we were he would come up to me and give me a hug. Even in high school when I would just push him off me and tell him to fuck off. He just seemed to know.” Sam couldn’t get Dean to look at him. Dean just continued to hold his gaze anywhere Sam wasn’t.  
“You would sit in the same position for over 20 minutes and I just knew something was wrong. I never knew those times were when you missed mom.”

“We’re a bunch of chicks at a sleepover.” Dean said almost bitterly. “Sharing feelings and shit.” Sam was grateful for it, though. He’d never had a chance to tell these things to anyone, especially after Dean had left.

A few hours of road stories later they were driving down route 5 and through Willamette National Forest. There were several lookout stops along the way, and since they needed to stretch their legs and the view was magnificent, they stopped to take some pictures.

Sam couldn’t imagine there would be a more beautiful part of their drive. He found himself holding his breath, as if feeling like he wasn’t allowed to enjoy it. Dean took out his guitar and started strumming.

I, I will be king  
And you, you will be queen  
Though nothing will drive them away  
We can beat them, just for one day  
We can be Heroes, just for one day

Dean’s voice rang out in the clear, open air. Sam wondered, not for the first time, how Dean had learned this music. Cas stood up to sway to the music while Sam sat down and pulled out On The Road to read.

And you, you can be mean  
And I, I'll drink all the time  
'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact  
Yes we're lovers, and that is that  
Though nothing will keep us together  
We could steal time, just for one day  
We can be Heroes, for ever and ever  
What d'you say?

In between lines Sam snapped a picture of the two of them with his disposable camera. 

I, I wish you could swim  
Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim  
Though nothing, nothing will keep us together  
We can beat them, for ever and ever  
Oh we can be Heroes, just for one day

Sam could tell Dean saw something new in Cas, but didn’t know if Dean could see it. While he was playing and singing he’d look over at Cas dancing and give a small smile.

I, I will be king  
And you, you will be queen  
Though nothing will drive them away  
We can be Heroes, just for one day  
We can be us, just for one day

I, I can remember  
Standing by the wall  
And the guns shot above our heads  
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall  
And the shame was on the other side  
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever  
Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

Sam couldn’t get Cas’s story out of his head. They’d all had shit lives, that much was certain. Several snapshots of thoughts ran through his head and he was finding it hard to pinpoint any of them.

We can be Heroes, we can be Heroes, we can be Heroes, just for one day, we can be Heroes

We're nothing, and nothing will help us  
Maybe we're lying, then you better not stay  
But we could be safer, just for one day

After a few more songs and Castiel dancing, they got back in the car to finish out their drive. The trio stayed silent for the next couple of hours until they hit a motel halfway between Seattle and San Francisco. Cas was already asleep, and Sam and Dean had been talking, attempting to stay quiet enough to not wake him up.

“You’ve really grown, Sam.” Dean looked out the window as he spoke. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t there for you to be able to see it.” Sam didn’t know what to say.  
“Yeah, me too.” He breathed after a long pause.  
Dean opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. There was so much Sam wanted to say. He wanted to tell Dean that it was okay, they could make up those years. But he knew that wasn’t true. Dean leaving had made everything harder. But Sam also knew that Dean didn’t do it to hurt Sam, but out of a place of feeling hurt. Sam could tell and feel that. They didn’t look at one another.  
“I forgive you, though.” Sam heard himself say. He knew it was true, it just didn’t feel like he was the person who had spoken.   
“Thank you” Dean said in a hoarse whisper.  
It felt like ages away from when they’d yelled at each other on their way to Chicago. Dean was still wearing the same two outfits he owned from being homeless. But this conversation was a start. Sam wasn’t sure of what. Maybe now they could just move forward and heal. 

The motel was cheap and there were only two beds. Dean flopped down and passed out almost immediately. Sam couldn’t seem to fall asleep, so he let Cas take the second bed while he wandered around outside, trying to solidify his thoughts from the day. He ripped out a piece of paper from the notebook he’d given Dean and started putting bullets down of what had happened and his thoughts.

7-4-03  
Sam Winchester  
Castiel told us he had been assaulted by his brother’s friends at a young age  
He looked so…sad and I just wish I could have done something more than be here. My chest literally aches thinking about it  
2\. Apparently when Dean stared off into space when we were young he missed mom  
\- what was mom like?  
\- I think we can finally move forward? I don’t know yet.  
\- I need to get him more clothes  
3\. I miss Charlie already, because she was someone I could talk through this stuff with and even if she called me out for being dramatic she still listened and offered something, and I had never had that before  
4\. Now that she’s left, I realize how bad my head is at taking all of these thoughts and separating them so I feel like my brain is just full of shit - I have so many thoughts that jumble together and not one of them can be separated from the next so they’re all just THERE  
5\. There’s something between Dean and Cas and I don’t know what it is or how to describe it but I think Cas could be really really good for Dean.  
6\. I think that’s everything

 

The next day they got up bright and early to finish the second half of their drive. The time was too early for Dean, who continued to sleep in the backseat. Sam tried to use the time to talk with Cas some more. There were several burning questions he had, but he didn’t want to get too personal or overstep boundaries. After a long time trying to come up with the ways to ask questions and which one to ask, he finally spoke.  
“Hey, Cas, not that I’m complaining, but why did you decide to join us like that?” Sam hated the way he worded that. It had flown so much better in his head but got all fucked up when he tried to say it. Cas didn’t seem to notice, though.  
“Meeting you and Dean sort of felt like a wakeup call” Cas looked back to Dean sleeping in the backseat. “There was something out of place in my life that I was vaguely aware of but put up with because I knew nothing else. After Lollapalooza that piece just nagged at me over and over again until I followed it to the airport.” Cas tilted his head and paused. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it?” Cas asked.  
“Not one bit.” Sam laughed. “I get it, though.”  
“You do?” Cas asked, sitting up further in the seat of the car.  
“I mean, maybe not the entire extent of it. But I can see the way you look at Dean. It’s only been a few days but you care so deeply and want something for him that you can’t name. It’s for sure not love. At least not yet. But it’s there.”  
“Do you…do you think Dean would ever…um…feel anything back?” Castiel asked slowly, as if questioning every word.  
Sam looked at his brother from the rearview mirror. “…I don’t know him well enough to say anything for sure.” He answered honestly. “But there’s something in his eyes when he looks at you that I’ve never seen before. I just don’t know what it is.”That seemed to scare Cas, who sat back in his seat and furrowed his eyebrows.  
“I think…” Sam had to choose his words carefully here. He could feel Cas looking over at him hanging on what he was saying. “I think what we all need right now are friends.” Sam paused. “We’ve all been messed up, bad.” Sam was trying to not sound like an idiot but realizing he was failing horribly. Cas sat back, his face blank. “I just think we need each other as friends right now.”

They continued in silence for a while. About an hour in, Dean woke back up and immediately said “where’s the coffee”. They stopped at the next exit to get some food.

The second day of this drive was spent in a flurry of singing along to the radio, planning San Francisco and crappy food. Sam spoke with Bobby, who was happy to hear that him and Dean were doing pretty good.

The maps Sam had showed that they’d have to go over the golden gate bridge to get in. He couldn’t wait to see something so iconic in person.

The weather was beautiful, and they drove with the windows rolled down. There were trees all around but as they got closer to civilization the trees started to drop off. It was late afternoon when they started seeing exits for San Fransisco.

Sam held his breath when he started driving on the bridge. It was gorgeous and unlike any bridge he had seen before. The late afternoon sun made it shine with a phenomenal peach light. Cas stuck his torso out the open window and laughed as they drove along.  
“Don’t fall out!” Dean shouted back to Cas through the wind. Sam didn’t think Cas even heard. A giant smile came across all of their faces and the car rolled on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I just recently got some inspiration. I've been working on this chapter for a while and I'm happy with the result.


	16. Dean's Notes 6

7.4.03  
I’m really hoping no one has to read these, it’s so embarrassing to think that I have such weak emotions  
I feel to many things  
I’m starting to realize what Crowley did. I feel like every mile we drive is another mile I run from him though. Can I run far enough? Is there a way to get away from the things he did? Do I have to face them?  
We’re all running though. I can see that Sam’s running from something...something about our family. I can’t tell, but I feel like he’s trying to find something. Maybe searching for something is better than running from something else. Maybe there's no difference. I don't know yet.   
Cas...I don’t know what he’s running from yet. It must be something to do with family, too. He just showed up on our doorstep in Seattle.   
I see the way he looks at me. I want to reach out and just touch him. Make sure he’s real. He feels like something that’s too good to be true.  
I would poison him though. I must’ve been the poison for Crowley, that’s why he did those things, right? And for our family….

I’ve been thinking about forgiveness. Is it necessary to forgive terrible people? Is there a way to let go of situations that hurt you without explicitly forgiving those people?

Fuck.

 

Every hour the church bell tolls, it calls me back from the embers and coal  
I began to find comfort in the patterns around, I've always accepted the formula I've found  
The melody's gone but the silence feels wrong  
Can I trust what I don't know?

Today is the day of overused cliches   
When my hands craft a path out of dried, cracking clay  
My mind writes poems for my heart to pray  
I come back into focus, for I have strayed. 

The church bell is tolling, is it time to forgive?  
Every hour time passes is a new question. 

I've always thought I had no control, but there's something within me that's just gone cold  
The earth fell away from the palm of my hand, my knees gave out but I have no need to stand  
The ground is gone but flying feels wrong  
Can I trust something new?

Today is the day to stay or stray  
When my hands shake to make 49 paper cranes  
My mind writes apologies I'll never say  
I break out of the mold in which I lay. 

There's quiet, there's quiet, there's quiet, there's quiet, there's a quiet here.   
Empty space shouts, and all I hear is fear.   
The church bell is tolling, is it time to forgive?  
This question burns like fire, while I turn my back and live.

 

We all told the most wonderful stories to each other.  
Sam and i...well we talked through stuff more.  
He forgave me.  
I couldn’t help it, I started crying. I’m such a damn wuss.  
I can’t even write down what that felt like because I can’t find the words yet. But I’ve always….I’ve always been terrified of letting him down and I failed horribly at some of the only good parts of myself by leaving.

7.5.03  
Cas is running from his brother, Michael. He hurt him, bad. I don’t understand how anyone could decide to take advantage of someone so gentle.

I was awake when he said he had feelings for me. He wouldn’t..if he knew what a terrible person I am…if he knew that I’d just hurt him like I hurt everyone.

I can’t seem to just act like a normal human being. Am I too goddamn broken for that?  
There was one point with Charlie….she told me that no one is flawed by being broken..it just gives us a chance to be put back together differently. I don't know how I could be put back together though. 

 

Clouds look so fake sometimes. Like it looks like someone painted a bowl above us and we just see a fucking painted bowl. The clouds and sky are just painted there. Have you ever noticed that? They're the only thing that looks the same in paintings. Trees and plants and buildings and animals all look so different but the sky just looks like a damn painting. I think about that a lot. 

I've had a lot of time to write since we've been in the car, but we are going over the golden gate right now and I won't be able to write as much while in sanfran. 

This bridge...I can't describe it. Cas stuck his entire body out the window as we drive along and I couldn't stop laughing. There's something so innocent about him even with how he's been hurt. I don't want to take that away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for such a positive response to this. Honestly. I have never enjoyed writing something so much. Hopefully I'll be writing more soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone wanted the rest of this story. This is for you. When I deleted the last chapter I accidentally deleted their comments. Sorry love, but here is the start of the rest of the story.  
> This is also for the Dean to my Sam, Maddy. We found home in each other.  
> Castiel comes in Chapter 5.


End file.
